Blue Pill, Red Pill
by Hannaadi88
Summary: The Devil doesn't come dressed in a red cape and pointy horns. He comes as everything you've ever wished for.
1. Chapter 1

_The Devil doesn't come dressed in a red cape and pointy horns. He comes as everything you've ever wished for._

 _\- Tucker Max_

 _.x._

When Lance had left his room to look for something to pass the time, he didn't have green food goo in mind. But an hour later found him in the midst of an impromptu session of Master Chef: Alien Gourmet. Pidge had goo in her hair from when she'd tried to put together a makeshift mixer and Hunk was currently shoving his goo into the oven when it was obvious that it didn't want to be thus confined. Lance would've paused to question Hunk's tactics if not for the timer that was ticking away on the counter.

Were they making a mess? Yup. Was the food they were preparing at least partially sentient? Lance would like to think not. Would everything be edible once the timer rang? Who knew?

But what Lance _did_ know for certain was that he hadn't had this much fun in weeks.

"Hey! Give that back! It's not your turn yet!"

"Not a chance," Lance grinned as he held the spoon high above Pidge's straining arms. He turned away and grabbed his bowl, mixing his winning dish as he walked around the room with Pidge in tow. "Time's a-wastin and I'm pretty sure you've mixed that soup to death."

Pidge looked about ready to jump him, literally (wouldn't be the first time, the little gremlin almost knocked him over the last time she tried to climb him like a tree to get the remote), but her shoulders sagged as she glanced at the timer. She raised a finger in warning.

"Heed my words, McClain. Vengeance shall be mine!"

Lance shrugged as he set his bowl back down on the counter at a safe distance from Pidge. "Yeah yeah, I hear ya," he waved her words away, turning to focus on his dish. He paused to sniff the air as he caught scent of…

"Is it just me, or is something burning?"

Pidge swore and finally returned to her soup, which was indeed covered in a cloud of smoke. Hunk, whose food was proudly set on the table for inspection (was that a cake?!), rushed towards Pidge with giant orange oven mitts and grabbed the pot. He quickly dumped the smoking container in the sink and turned on the faucet. The steam wasn't thick enough to hide Pidge's pout.

"This is all your fault!" Pidge called over her shoulder as Hunk helped her estimate the damage. "If you hadn't distracted me…!"

"All's fair in love and war!" Lance sung as he sprinkled some of the cinnamon-tasting powder Hunk had gotten at what had looked to be a farmers' market on the last planet they visited. "You gotta keep your eyes on the prize!"

Pidge crossed her arms and grumbled something under her breath, but appeared somewhat appeased when Hunk patted her shoulder.

"For what it's worth, I don't think it's ruined. Maybe a little smoky but hey! There are plenty of things that taste smoky! You've got smoked salmon, smoked chicken, smoked corn, smoked beef—"

"I get it, I get it," Pidge rolled her eyes and pulled away from Hunk's touch. "I've never heard of smoked soup though," she added, a little miserably.

Lance watched as Hunk's eyes widened and did his best to bite back a sinister smirk. Hunk was going to go on a tangent, and thus bought him just enough time to perfect his…oatmeal? That's what he'd been aiming for, but no matter what he did, it was still green and who wanted to eat green porridge?

…then again, practically everything they've eaten on this ship was green. Maybe it wasn't that big of a deterrent as he'd thought.

"-and don't get me started on smoked potato soup! My grandma used to make the _best_ -"

Lance hummed as he continued his work, Hunk's voice in the background serving as a familiar background noise for his concentration. They'd worked like this back at the garrison, too. Lance needed silence to fall asleep, but he needed noise to focus when he studied. With Hunk being the kind of guy who needed to read the material out loud to memorize it, they made the perfect study buddies.

As Lance liked to say, they were meant to be.

Only the sound of the timer's alarm going off was able to derail Hunk's story of Sunday night dinners with his family. Pidge looked slightly relieved as she reached out for the timer to turn off the irritating noise. Rushing, Lance was able to give his oatmeal a final stir before his friends' eyes were on him, looking at him expectantly.

"Time's up, Lance," Pidge announced cheerfully as she gestured towards the table. "You know what to do."

Lance saluted her and picked up his dish, carrying and settling it down next to Hunk's cake. He joined him at the table and they both watched Pidge ladle some of the burnt soup into a bowl with the same intensity she used to crack codes. The proud smile she wore as she placed the bowl down on the table without spilling a drop gave Lance an inexplicable warm feeling in his chest.

He might not be home with his family, but being with his team was a damn close second. Now wasn't the time to be sentimental, though- he had a contest to win.

"So, uh, who's gonna be the judge?" Lance turned to Hunk, as he'd been the one to come up with the idea. Hunk offered the two of them a guilty smile.

"I…sort of didn't plan that far? I kinda just wanted to cook with you guys…"

Pidge looked a little exasperated, but quickly perked up when she looked at the doorway. "I think I hear someone coming!"

They all watched the doorway and sure enough, someone was coming closer. Lance wondered if it was Shiro, heading to the kitchen for a light snack. Or maybe Coran? Lance would definitely put his money on Coran. The man was constantly doing his rounds, making sure that everything was running smoothly. In fact, he was starting to hope it was. Coran always did have a warm spot for him.

…at least, that's what he'd say when he'd specifically single Lance out to help with the maintenance of the castle.

Their potential judge had finally passed by the doorway and all Lance needed was to see the flash of red to know that he was screwed.

"Keith! Come over here for a sec!"

Oh, no.

Of course.

It figured that out of all the rest of the people on the ship, _Keith_ , his long-time rival would be the one to walk by.

Keith paused when he heard his name and turned around to face the group. His brows rose at the mess in the kitchen but refrained from commenting as he walked in.

"What's up?"

"Nothing!" Lance said quickly, waving him away. "Nothing to see here! You can go back to punching gladiators to your heart's content!"

"We're doing Master Chef!" Pidge explained, ignoring Lance's huff and appeasing Keith's obvious confusion. She gestured towards the table behind them, providing a visual aid.

Keith blinked. "Master Chef…?"

"You know, the cooking show? Where people compete to see who the best cook is? Ring any bells?" Hunk elaborated, his concern at Keith's apparent lack of knowledge of one of his favorite t.v shows showing.

Keith shook his head, face blank.

"See? He doesn't even know the show! We're probably just annoying him, anyway. Let him go back to whatever he was doing and we'll find a different judge to—"

"I don't mind," Keith cut him off, their eyes briefly meeting before Lance quickly looked away. "I can be the judge if you guys want. I just have to taste everything and decide what I like best, right?"

"You got it!" Hunk said loudly before Lance could protest any further. Grumbling, Lance stepped back and allowed Keith to approach the table, his lips pressed tightly in a thin line and his eyes following Keith's movements like a hawk.

He didn't need to wait and hear what Keith thought of every dish to know who would win. The contest was really a formality- anyone with eyes (and a mouth) could see that Hunk was the winner. But to be told by Keith that he'd lost…it irked Lance to his very core.

Keith tasted Pidge's burnt soup first, wrinkling his nose before coughing and turning to Pidge with an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry, Pidge, but I think you should stick to tech."

Lance expected to see _some_ dejection as Pidge had worked hard on that soup, but she simply shrugged. "I mean, you're not wrong."

Moving on to the next dish, Keith took a bite of Hunk's cake with visibly less hesitation than he'd tasted the soup. And in a (not) shocking turn of events he smiled and took another bite.

"This is really good," Keith turned to Hunk and wiped the crumbs off his chin with the back of his hand. Lance's eyes followed the movement and inevitably zeroed on Keith's mouth, where a lone crumb still lingered just above his upper lip.

Lance was somewhat of an expert when it came to Keith's lips. Not that he'd ever touched them (and why would he?) but he'd spent his fair share of time studying the delicate bows.

It didn't take a genius to tell that a person was upset when they frowned. What Lance would like to think he'd done was master the full scale of Keith's frowns- which, honestly, was his expression 90% of the time.

There was Keith's contemplative frown. His focused frown. His confused frown. His angry frown. Sometimes, if Lance was lucky, he'd see that frown turn into a sad pout. It didn't happen often, but when it did, it gave Lance the green light to try and approach his teammate and talk it out. He tried to stay away when Keith was still angry, though, as the guy tended to lash out and…Lance wasn't a fan of being caught in the crossfire.

Playful fighting? He lived for it, tried to one-up Keith whenever he could. But once it came to real anger, Lance fumbled. There was a time and place for everything and even he acknowledged that anger was needed at times, but…

Just because it was necessary didn't mean that he had to like it. When he'd been home or at the garrison Lance would usually go to bed when he was emotionally drained after a fight. Now that he had Blue he couldn't imagine recovering anywhere else.

Or, well, he _had_ Blue. He hadn't gotten to that point with Red yet.

Watching Keith and studying his emotions wasn't creepy at all. Nope. Lance was simply learning to watch for their new leader's mood swings and act accordingly. If he was to be Keith's right hand, he had to know to read and anticipate his thoughts and needs and help him convey them to the rest of the team.

The fact that Keith was easy on the eyes had nothing to do with his furtive observations.

"…Lance?"

Lance blinked, snapping back into focus. Pidge, Keith and Hunk were all looking at him expectantly. There was a spark of _knowing_ in Hunk and Pidge's gazes that made Lance want to squirm and met Keith's eyes instead. Once he realized what he was seeing, Lance's stomach twisted in a nervous knot.

Keith had moved on to his dish and was holding an empty spoon in the air. There was a faint smile on his lips that simply didn't belong because why on earth would he be smiling at the prospect of tasting something Lance had made?

"Uh, sorry, I blanked out for a moment. What did you say?"

Keith raised a brow, dipped the spoon in the pot and raised it slowly to his mouth, a careful hand hovering beneath it to catch any spillage.

"I _said_ that I didn't know you could cook. I really like this," Keith added, pausing to swallow his spoonful. "What is it?"

Lance narrowed his eyes and folded his arms against his chest uncertainly. What was Keith playing at?

"It's oatmeal. At least, that's what it's supposed to taste like."

Keith licked his lips. Lance immediately noticed that the crumb from Hunk's cake was gone.

"The consistency is different, but I can taste the similarity. I always made mine from an instant mix," Keith's smile was a bit sheepish. "I did try to add a dash of cinnamon to feel like I did more than add boiling water, though. I think I can taste it in yours?"

Lance shrugged. "Hunk found some alien powder that tastes like it on that last planet we liberated."

Keith nodded sagely and set the spoon down on the table. He turned around to face the three contestants, clearing his throat.

"Time to announce the winner! Pidge, I—"

"Don't even bother," Pidge waved him away.

"…alright then," Keith continued. He turned to the two remaining contestants. Lance made an effort not to shy away from his gaze when it fell on him.

"Lance, Hunk," Keith addressed them in his Leader voice and Lance couldn't help the shiver that ran up his spine. It didn't hold the same authority that Shiro's did, but damn did it come close.

"It was a difficult choice, but the winner of…er, Master Cook?"

"Master _Chef_ , you hermit," Pidge corrected from the sidelines.

"Right. Anyway, the winner is Hunk. Not only did your cake taste like cake, it felt like one, too. Congratulations."

Hunk beamed and Lance wrapped his arm around his friend's neck, grinning and teasing. They all knew their resident foodie would win but watching Hunk being rewarded for something he was good at was simply heartwarming. The guy knew that he was good with food and rightfully took pride in it. That didn't stop him from getting a little flustered when being acknowledged, though.

Lance wondered for a moment if there was something he was clearly good at, too. Nothing came to mind.

A hand on his shoulder pulled him out of his thoughts and he turned his face to see Keith at his side. He was frowning again.

 _Nervous frown_ , Lance's mind immediately categorized.

"Lance, I…I really liked your oatmeal," he said haltingly. "Could you maybe make it again? Like for breakfast or something?"

Lance's eyes widened a fraction before his mouth spread in a big smile.

"Sure thing, Mullet! Can't say no to a fan!"

Keith's hand dropped from Lance's shoulder as if burned and he stepped back with a scowl. "Thanks," he mumbled and quickly turned away, but not before Lance noticed the red in his cheeks.

Perplexed, Lance silently watched Keith leave the room. Once he was gone Lance turned back to his friends to share a questioning look.

The expressions Hunk and Pidge wore were anything but uncertain.

Lance unwound his arm from around Hunk's shoulder and took a wary step back. "What are you looking at me like that for?"

"Oh, no reason," Hunk said cheerfully.

"Yeah," Pidge chipped in, "it's not like we're waiting for you to make the next move or anything."

"Next move?" Lance repeated. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Hunk rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Lance. It doesn't take a genius to see that you've been tiptoeing around each other for months."

"…huh?"

"Keith likes you," Pidge clarified. "And you like him."

Lance's face heated up.

"What! No way! Keith doesn't fucking 'like' me, and I sure as hell don't—ow!"

Pidge gave him a bored look as she stepped back from flicking his nose. "Thou shalt not lie. Do you really think we haven't noticed the way you stare at him all the time?"

"That's paraphrasing," Lance grumbled. "And I don't stare! I just need more time to figure him out since the guy doesn't like to use his words."

Hunk shook his head. "It's not only you, y'know. He's been looking at you a lot lately, too."

Lance sucked in a sharp breath.

"…really?" He asked in a small voice.

"Really," Hunk confirmed, smile warm.

Lance continued to turn his friends' words in his head as he situated himself on his pillows a few hours later. He'd seen Keith at dinner and aside from giving him an odd look when he sat down, the red paladin more or less ignored him for the rest of the meal. It was a little difficult to believe that Keith held any kind of torch for him when he didn't even look in his direction.

Maybe he'd expected Lance to be the initiator (talking was more of his forte, after all). Or maybe he was worn out after his afternoon training session with Shiro.

Or maybe he really didn't like him that way and his friends' perception wasn't worth shit when it came to humans.

Lance groaned and flipped over, burying his face in the pillow. He didn't need to figure this out now. Hell, he probably needed to think about how _he_ felt for Keith. Sure, the guy was attractive, but did he want to be with him?

He should sort out his own feelings before figuring out Keith's. Or maybe he should understand Keith's before opening himself to the possibility of heartbreak.

Either way, Lance had time. It wasn't like either of them was going anywhere. Keith would always be just a hallway away. They'll have to confront each other eventually.

 _But for now…_

Well, Lance wasn't going to forgo his beauty sleep for any pretty boy.

.x.

Maybe the headphones and sleeping mask had been a mistake.

Lance hadn't worn both to sleep in a very long time. When the team had first arrived in the Castle of Lions, Lance had learned the hard way that cutting his senses off during sleep was the wrong thing to do. Sure, it helped him relax and drift off, but he'd never forget that severely disappointed look Shiro gave him when he'd arrived late for yet _another_ surprise drill. That was when they were still learning how to work together as a team and Lance vividly remembered the bitter taste in his mouth at the knowledge that he'd been the one who ruined the drill for everyone. They hadn't known each other very well at the time, but Shiro was Lance's hero (still was, if he were honest with himself) and to have him look so irritated with him…

Lance had vowed never to warrant such a look again from his leader.

Months and months had passed since that moment and Lance would be the first to admit that he hadn't lived up to the promise he made to himself. But you know what? That was okay. Nobody was perfect, not even Shiro. Lance did his best and most of the time it was enough. He preferred not to dwell on the times when it wasn't.

He refused to sabotage himself like he'd done in the beginning, though, and while it initially had cost him a few sleepless nights, Lance had trained himself to sleep with only his sleeping mask on. The lack of noise still disturbed him (what kind of heathen fell asleep without music?) but he knew better than to risk not hearing the alarm go off. They didn't need drills as frequently as they used to- reality kept them on their toes.

Only that the war hadn't come to knock on their door in the last couple of days and Lance had decided to treat himself to a restful night after the realization that there might be something between him and Keith. His mother had always been fond of telling him to 'sleep on it' when he had to make important decisions and Lance sure was in need of a good night's sleep (wasn't he always?). What harm would there be in indulging for a few hours of complete darkness and calming, classical music?

…

Lance knew he'd fucked up when he felt something being stuffed into his mouth. He woke up with a start and tried to sit up, only to be held down by something heavy pinning his arms and to the bed. His mind reeled, wondering if this was some kind of simulation. God, he sure hoped so. If he got out of this alive, he'd never steal Pidge's headphones again!

The calming piano music mocked him as he struggled, testing the limits of his confinement. It was definitely a person holding him down- maybe even two. Maybe they were stronger than him, but he'd make sure to make it as difficult as possible to hold him down!

Pressure was starting to be applied to his legs and Lance acted quickly before he'd lose his chance. He bent his knee sharply and hit a solid mass. His resistance loosened the grip on his arms and Lance yanked himself away, rolling off the bed and onto the ground. He yanked the headphones off upon impact (fuck, that hurt) and tore his sleeping mask off, quickly rising to his knees.

What he saw made him break out in cold sweat.

One of Lotor's soldiers they'd fought while trying to recapture the comet was standing in front of him. She had pale blue skin and a darker shade of short, blue hair. Lance would've found her attractive if the memory of her kicking him in the gut didn't haunt him. That and, well, the fact that she was carrying a syringe full of clear liquid.

Lance had a feeling it was meant for him.

"Impressive," the alien said mildly as she looked Lance over and took a step forward. "But futile. Your resistance is pointless, blue paladin."

Lance desperately felt around the floor, groping blindly in the dark for his bayard. He wasn't stupid- his weapon was his only chance. He was more or less helpless without it. He wasn't some Keith or Shiro who fought close range and could knock a person out with a single punch. Lance was a long-range fighter. With his enemy so close and his bayard out of sight…

The only thing left was to scream and hope that his teammates would hear him.

Lance opened his mouth and tried to spit out the foreign object (it felt like some kind of ball) that had been shoved down his throat, but the more he tried, the larger it got. Lance choked, gagging and glaring up at the alien with wet eyes as she hovered above him.

"Now stay still and I won't have to- hey!"

Maybe he couldn't scream or fight, but Lance was light on his feet. He rolled on the floor and started to reach for the hand-scanner next to his door when he was shoved down. His head hit the floor with a sharp thud and Lance gasped, momentarily dazed as his arms were grabbed and held behind his back. When he snapped back into focus he could feel a weight on his lower back keeping him down. It felt as if someone was sitting on him, but that couldn't be, could it? He'd only seen that scary alien chick with the syringe and there she was, standing next to him.

"Good job, Ezor," the alien spoke, but Lance didn't know who she was addressing. The weight on his back shifted, and Lance made a wild guess that some invisible creature was straddling him.

"You know I wouldn't have let him get away, Acxa," a disembodied female voice said happily. Lance tried to shake her off but instead had his head yanked back. He grit his teeth and met the eyes of the alien with the syringe (Acxa? What kind of name was that?). She didn't look too pleased.

"Now hold still or this is going to hurt."

Lance wasn't really given much of an option. The alien on his back held his head in a death-grip as Acxa lowered herself to her knees and slowly inserted the needle into Lance's neck.

Tears pricked his eyes but Lance refused to let his assailants see him cry. He bit his lip and held still, not wanting to disturb the needle once it was in his body. The last thing he needed was a broken alien needle piercing an artery.

The needle was removed after a few moments and Lance's shoulders slumped, his fear getting the best of him as his body started to shake. For all he knew, he'd been injected with a lethal poison. Or maybe he was part of some terrible experiment. The mental image of his friends finding his lifeless body on the floor in the morning made his stomach churn dangerously.

Lance's pulse quickened as he realized that it was becoming harder to breathe. His vision swam and his breath came in slow, labored pants. The world was going out of focus and he'd never been so scared.

 _Being held down and poisoned by two alien chicks is definitely not as sexy as it sounds._

The absurd thought popped into Lance's mind as the world grew dimmer and he laughed, the sound vibrating weakly in his throat and never quite making it past his lips. The ball in his throat slid even deeper and the last thing Lance could remember doing before blacking out was trying not to choke on it.


	2. Chapter 2

A shock of something cold and wet splashing on his face prompted Lance to open his eyes. He blinked, groaning at the bright light assaulting his eyes and jolting at the sound of his own voice. The ball he'd been struggling with before he'd lost consciousness was gone, leaving his throat feeling unnaturally stretched and sore. Lance swallowed thickly in an attempt to soothe it.

There was water dripping down his face and when Lance tried to wipe it away, he found that his arms were otherwise occupied. A few tugs painted a not so pretty picture in his mind of his hands tied tightly together above his head. Lance grimaced and tried to look on the bright side. At least his legs were free, right?

He looked down. Yep, there they were, balancing him on his knees. Lance slowly tried to stand up and felt a shock of relief when his legs responded to his commands. They were a little shaky, but otherwise intact. And now that he was standing, the pressure on his wrists wasn't so bad.

His body in general was kinda woozy and he'd need an hour or two in a cryo-pod when he returned to the castle but hey! He wasn't dead!

…assuming he'd return to the castle.

 _Nope. Not gonna even go there_ , Lance stopped that train of thought and shook his head violently in an attempt to clear it of the drowsy fog it still felt full of.

"If you want your head off that badly, I'll be happy to remove it for you."

Lance froze. Straightening up, he turned his head in the direction of the voice and found another one of Lotor's generals leaning against the wall. He hadn't noticed her before as she'd stood so silently but now that he saw her he couldn't look away. Not when he didn't know what she wanted from him.

This alien was bigger than Acxa and had large Galran ears. Her skin color, however, was the same shade of blue as Acxa's and she had a scar beneath her right eye. She was holding a bucket and smiling at him and Lance felt a shiver shoot up his spine.

She looked like she could snap his neck in less than a tick.

"So you're finally awake," the alien continued, unbothered by Lance's silence. She pushed herself away from the wall and set down the bucket she'd held. "I wasn't sure what a human's pain tolerance was so I decided to see if water would do the trick. Wouldn't want to accidentally break you."

Lance frowned as his eyes closely followed the alien's movements. She finally stopped a few feet away from him and Lance's curiosity got the better of him.

He could never stay silent for long.

"Who are you?" He demanded, twisting his arms to encourage circulation. They were beginning to feel a little numb. "Where am I? What do you want from me?" The whole situation felt surreal, as if he was stuck in a cheesy horror film. But the ropes digging into his wrists were a sharp reminder that _no_ , this was his reality.

The alien raised a brow and reached out. Lance flinched and closed his eyes, but all he felt was her large hand cupping his face and giving it a warning squeeze. His eyes fell open to find the alien's face peering down at him just a bit too close for comfort.

"Do you honestly expect me to answer your questions?" She let her question fill the air between them before cracking a menacing grin. "However, I shall answer one of them. I'm Zethrid, little Earthling, and you'll do well to remember my name. If you don't answer _my_ questions, I'll be sure to give it a reason to haunt your dreams."

Lance couldn't help it.

He laughed.

Zethrid's eyes widened for a brief moment before narrowing. Lance's laugh turned into a cry of pain when the fingers clutching his cheeks dug into his skin. Zethrid's nails were _really_ sharp.

"I don't think you understand the gravity of your situation," she hissed. "There's nothing funny about being tied up and tortured."

Lance sobered up a bit at that. He'd had his suspicions, but to hear Zethrid state it out loud felt like a blow. He was a soldier and he was no stranger to pain and injuries, but torture…

Is this what Shiro had gone through? Was he going to eventually enter the gladiator arena as well?

"I'm sorry, it just came out," Lance said quickly, flashing Zethrid the most dazzling smile he could muster. "The only dreams I could see you appearing in…well, they aren't nightmares, if y'know what I mean."

Zethrid looked at him blankly before pulling her hand away in disgust.

"If I didn't need you to answer my questions, I would've severed your tongue," she informed him with a frown. Lance tried not to wince at the imagery.

"O-kay, got it, I'll tone down the charm," Lance promised, losing the smile he'd automatically worn when Zethrid gave him a look. He watched her closely as she walked over to a white table in the middle of the sterile room and picked up a sharp-looking knife.

Lance dug his nails into his palms.

"Now, paladin, I've got a few questions for you. Should you answer them all I'll try not to hurt you…much."

Lance swallowed thickly, reminding himself that if he valued his life he'd refrain from even grinning at Zethrid's corny lines. Her words may have sounded like they came from a crime novel but her actions were very real.

"Tell me. What did your team want with the comet?"

Lance pursed his lips and looked down at the white floor, avoiding Zethrid's gaze. He wondered absently if this room was routinely used for torture. If so, how did they keep their tiles so stainless?

"I said," Lance was forced to meet Zethrid's eyes as he was yanked up by a tight grip in his hair and the blade was pressed snugly against his jugular, "what did your team want with the comet?"

"That's none of your damn business," Lance spat, baring his teeth. Was he scared? Shit, he was terrified. He wouldn't be too surprised if he peed himself. But was he going to let it show? Hell no. He had some pride left in him. He'd rather die than betray his friends.

But as the knife sliced his cheek and he felt the first drops of blood drip down his neck, Lance wasn't so sure how long that would last.

Zethrid was creative- Lance would at least give her that. She wasn't repetitive, either. When Lance refused to answer one question she had no qualms with going onto the next one in hopes of gleaning at least some bit of information. She did make a mess whenever she did so, though.

Lance had long lost the feeling in his arms. Pins and needles? Way past that. Regardless, he was glad to have the ropes holding him up as he wasn't sure if he would've managed otherwise. Zethrid had done quite a number on him and there wasn't much left of his favorite blue PJs.

"Are you tired already?" Zethrid crooned, gripping Lance's shoulder and deliberately pressing down on the place she'd hit him not too long before. Lance hissed as she chuckled.

"It's a shame that you humans are so fragile."

"Sorry to disappoint," Lance spat, coughing despite the way it hurt his side. Zethrid's kick had probably bruised his ribs. Now when he looked at the floor all he could see was red. Red and pieces of stained blue fabric.

Blue covered in red…now if that just wasn't poetic.

Zethrid suddenly grabbed his neck and held his head in place. Lance's left eye was puffy from the punch she'd socked him with when he accidentally let an unsavory comment slip, but he could see that all traces of humor were gone from her face.

Her blade pricked Lance's ear.

"Last chance," Zethrid sneered. "List all the names and locations of the rebel groups you've allied yourselves with!"

Lance's pulse thudded loudly in his ears. It was one thing to be stabbed and hit (he honestly hadn't thought he'd endure this far), but to lose a limb?

 _Shiro lost his arm._

Lance's lower lip trembled. He'd always wanted to be more like his hero, but at what cost?

 _If you give in now, you would've suffered for nothing._

But an ear…?

 _You really are just a weak, pathetic seventh wheel. You'd betray the galaxy's chance at winning against the Galra for just an ear? Selfish. Coward._

"I-I…"

"Spit it out!"

Tears blurred Lance's vision as he felt something sharp nip the top of his ear.

"I'll do it nice and slow," Zethrid crooned as Lance screamed, the nip becoming a precise slice. "I can do this all day, paladin."

"No, you will _not_."

A loud, authoritative voice rang through the small room and Lance tried to turn his head towards the sound, only to be reminded of Zethrid's vicelike grip on his neck. It tightened reflexively and Lance coughed.

"You were supposed to collect information from him, Zethrid, not strangle him. Release the boy at once or you'll be the one to retrieve a new paladin for questioning."

"But my prince—"

"Now, Zethrid."

Lance's eyes were a mess- with his shiner from Zethrid's fist and the tears that stung, he wasn't sure at first that what he was seeing made any sense. But as he turned his head and rolled his shoulders he saw none other than Lotor himself entering the room and walking towards him. He reached out and Lance visibly flinched, expecting a tight, bruising grip like Zethrid's.

But the hand that cupped his chin was gentle and soft.

Lotor shook his head. "This clearly isn't working, is it, blue paladin?"

Zethrid stood behind Lotor with a clearly disapproving frown. "He was just about to break down when you walked in, sire. If you give me ten more minutes, I—"

"Enough," Lotor cut her off. He slowly turned Lance's face this way and that, inspecting his injuries and tutting. His eyes rested on Lance's ear before meeting his gaze.

"Are you in much pain?"

"What d'you think, jackass?" Lance bristled, trying to yank his face from Lotor's grip. He expected Lotor to hold him in place, but he allowed Lance to pull away without any resistance.

"Don't you dare speak to prince Lotor like that, you dirty little human!" Zethrid growled and made to step forward when Lotor turned around to face her. Lance couldn't see what went on between them, but Zethrid lowered her head and left the room, not without throwing Lance one last glare.

"I think," Lotor said quietly as he turned back to Lance, "that I'm going to get you down from there. Hold still."

"Wha—? Oomph!"

Lance toppled forward before he could process the meaning of Lotor's words. His arms, now free, reached out automatically to stop his fall but all they did was land on Lotor's shoulders. His grip tightened when he felt something knock his feet off the ground.

Lance's eyes widened (painfully, he might add) as he realized that he was being held by _Lotor_. Princess style, no less! He might be bleeding, battered and dazed, but Lance wasn't about to let Voltron's mortal enemy manhandle him!

"Let me down!"

Lance tried to wiggle his way out of Lotor's hold, but his body wouldn't cooperate. Even his arms and legs did little more than feebly press against Lotor's arms and chest in protest. Lance's face felt hot with shame.

Lotor's chuckle vibrated against Lance's shoulder. "Are you sure, paladin? I doubt you can stand, much less walk."

"I'd rather crawl than be carried by you," Lance shot, but his words came out a little slurred. He wasn't sure if it was the blood loss or fatigue. Whatever the cause, he probably wouldn't have been able to crawl, either. It felt like he was being drugged all over again.

"I think we both know you don't mean that," Lance heard Lotor say softly as they began to move towards the exit. Lance knew by that point that he didn't have much longer until oblivion.

When the darkness came this time around, Lance held a sliver of comfort knowing that he _probably_ wasn't going to die this time.

.x.

Lance woke up much more comfortable than he'd been when he was rudely awakened in the torture chamber. True, his body was screaming bloody murder at him, but at least he was lying down. The fact that the surface he was lying on was very soft was just a bonus.

For a moment he wondered if it'd all been a very bad dream and that he was waking up in his own room in the castle. The illusion was quickly broken once he tried to open his eyes and found that he could only see through one of them.

That, and he felt as if one of the lions accidentally sat on him while he was asleep.

Not being able to see with one of his eyes was Lance's primary concern, though, and his heart raced at the thought that he'd been blinded. He couldn't even open it! Lance quickly sat up and frantically touched his eye, sighing when he felt something covering it.

Not blind, then. Just bandaged.

His blood pressure caught up with him at the sudden movement and Lance groaned, falling back against the pillows and waiting for the room to stop spinning. That hadn't been very smart, but he just _had_ to know.

Lance was the team's sharpshooter. If he lost sight in one of his eyes…even if it was his left eye. He couldn't afford to lose something so crucial to his abilities as a soldier.

It was at this point that Lance supposed that he should show interest in his surroundings. Shiro would've probably studied the room and come up with an escape strategy while Pidge was most likely to find some new gadget to use to her advantage.

But Lance wasn't either of them. In fact, he was a little ashamed to admit it, but he didn't particularly care where he was.

Oh, he could figure out the basics. He was probably somewhere on Lotor's ship, heavily guarded, though any excessive safety measures would've been rather pointless. Lance could barely bend his knee, much the less run away.

The most important thing for him to do was heal fast enough to eventually be physically capable of escape. And if the Galra were stupid enough to give him a comfortable bed to do so, all the better.

The door to the room slid open and Lance warily watched as Lotor walked in, followed by another hooded Galra. The stranger approached him and Lance recoiled as he saw the telltale markings of a druid.

"Get away from me!" He snapped, wincing as he folded his legs to put as much distance as he could between himself and the druid now perched on the side of his bed. The druid pursed their lips but said nothing. Instead, they silently looked to Lotor, who was observing them from the far end of the room.

"Come now, paladin. Don't you want to get better?"

Lance frowned, curling his arms around his folded legs. "I don't trust you."

"And you have no reason to," Lotor easily agreed. He walked over to the bed and stood at Lance's other side. "However, aren't you curious who dressed and bandaged your wounds? Syna put a lot of effort into keeping you alive."

Lance glanced at the druid, presumably Syna, and considered them. Syna didn't look too happy to be there, but it was true that someone tended to him while he was out cold.

"Think, paladin. Why would we bother healing you if we only intend to hurt you?"

Lance looked up sharply at Lotor's words.

"I can think of plenty of reasons, mind games being only one of them. You can't just make me believe you with a few pretty words."

Lotor raised a brow. "So you aren't as simple as you appear."

"What was that?!"

"You make an excellent point," Lotor continued smoothly, ignoring Lance's indignation, "but the fact remains that you're injured and helpless in my grasp. You _will_ allow Syna to tend to you willingly, or I can easily have them put you under until you've recovered. The choice is yours, paladin."

Lance narrowed his eyes and met Lotor's gaze, challenging him to say anything else about his intellect, but Lotor simply stared him down solemnly until Lance had to look away. He leaned back against the pillows with a defeated sigh.

"Fine. Take care of me, or whatever."

His voice sounded childish and petulant to even his own ears, but the smug smile Lotor gave in response was just as immature. Lance folded his arms and observed a whispered exchange between Lotor and Syna. When he was done, he turned to leave and began walking away towards the door.

"Wait!" Lance called after him. "I've got questions for you!"

Lotor paused and turned ever so slightly, flashing Lance a sharp grin.

"Funny," he answered. "So do I."


	3. Chapter 3

It turned out that Lance was the proud owner of a fractured rib. His shoulder was bruised and his face was a mess of black and blue marks. The very tip of his right ear had been sliced off and the rest of his body was littered with cuts and scrapes, but what bothered Lance the most was his eye. Syna had taken off the bandage to check on it and applied some magical alien concoction for the swelling, but they insisted that he wear it at least for another day.

The Galra didn't have cyro-pods and that meant that injuries that would've taken a few hours at most to heal on the Altean ship were going to take much longer than that on Lotor's ship. Lance had a sneaking suspicion that the Galra were capable of healing him faster but that Lotor didn't want him mobile quite so soon.

Or maybe they were curious to see the healing rate of the human body. Either way, it was better than getting no treatment at all.

It did mean that Lance was confined to his bed a lot longer than he'd originally planned.

…

He was bored.

Lotor finally reappeared a few days after he'd last visited him. Lance had just begrudgingly thanked Syna for their daily checkup when Lotor walked in, carrying a bag. He gave the druid a pointed look and Syna was quick to bow their way out of the room, leaving Lance alone with the new ruler of the Galran Empire.

"What's in the bag?" Lance blurted, his curiosity drawn to the only new object he'd seen in days. Lotor shrugged as he sat down on the chair Syna just occupied.

"That depends."

Lance tilted his head.

"What do you mean, 'that depends'? Are we going to get into some philosophical discussion about the meaning of reality? Because if we are, you should really buy me dinner first."

Lotor grinned. "I'm afraid I can't offer you dinner, but how would you like dessert?"

Lance's breath hitched as Lotor reached into the bag and pulled out a bona fide Hershey's bar.

Blinking his eyes, Lance took a moment to acknowledge that this moment was indeed happening. In all his dreams he'd never even once entertained the possibility of witnessing prince fucking Lotor holding a Hershey's bar.

"I judge from your expression that this holds great value to you," Lotor mused as he flipped over the bar in his hand, studying it with open curiosity. Lance giggled, just a bit on the verge of hysteria.

"Honestly? Hershey's isn't my favorite brand of chocolate and I wouldn't say it's super valuable to me, but…I haven't had chocolate in months."

This was absurd. He was talking _chocolate_ with _Lotor_.

Lotor hummed. "I was told this was a sweet snack from Earth. If you'd rather have something else, though, I can arrange it."

"What? No, it's fine, I just…why the hell are you being so nice to me?"

"I'm royalty, paladin, not a barbarian. I didn't bring you here to suffer."

"Could've fooled me…" Lance muttered, his shoulder throbbing in agreement.

"I beg your pardon?"

"What I mean to say is that you didn't kidnap me just to offer me sweets," Lance said seriously, sitting up straight. "What do you want from me? I'm not gonna answer now the questions Zethrid asked just because of some chocolate bar."

Lotor studied him for a moment before sitting back as well. He set the chocolate down on the bed and met Lance's gaze.

"This room…the medical care, the sweets…they're meant to make you feel good. Happy, even."

A crease formed on Lance's brow. "But why? I'm your enemy. I don't even want to be here."

"That's what I'm trying to change," Lotor informed him. His face was blank, but there was something in the intensity of his gaze that made Lance want to look away.

"I want to show you the kind of life you could have here if you wish for it."

Lance shook his head. Nothing was making sense.

"I don't understand."

"I want you, blue paladin."

"…wait, I don't think I heard— I mean…you _what_?"

"I said that I want you."

Lance's face had never felt so hot.

"I-I…but we barely even know each other!"

Lotor raised a brow. "I don't see why that should be necessary. I've seen you. I know what you're capable of."

Lance's thoughts were a frenzy of questions and mortification. In all of their training as paladins, Allura and Coran never instructed them on what to do when their enemy propositioned them.

"I'm sorry," Lance gripped the edges of his blanket and looked away. He could feel the heat radiating from his cheeks. "I'm flattered, really, but I, uh. You see, I've already got a- a girlfriend and, um. Yeah. Sorry 'bout that. But! You aren't so bad lookin' yourself! I'm sure there are tons of Galra chicks out there who'd love to get to know you. I mean, with your being the, er, emperor and all that…?" He trailed off, unsure of what to say.

Silence. Lance's ears were still burning when he dared to raise his gaze to look at Lotor. The alien looked stricken and Lance wondered if this had been the first time he'd been turned down. Before he could try to soften the blow, however, Lotor burst into laughter.

Lance looked at him uncertainly.

"I-I apologize," Lotor coughed as he tried to catch his breath. "That was rude of me. I'm at fault, really, I suppose my wording wasn't accurate. I can't imagine…well."

Lance had never felt more confused in his life.

"I never meant to insinuate that I was attracted to you, paladin," Lotor clarified, wiping actual _tears_ of _mirth_ from his eyes. "What I tried to convey to you is that I desire your talents. Like I said, I've been observing you, and the Galra Empire would greatly benefit from your abilities."

Lance took a deep breath. He felt an awful mix of humiliation and disappointment that had nothing to do with the fact that he'd been told by a gorgeous alien that they weren't interested in him.

…Well, maybe just a bit. But that wasn't relevant to the issue at hand.

"Well, I'm sorry to break it to ya, but you've kidnapped the wrong guy," Lance said lightly, trying to downplay the awkwardness that would ultimately follow. "You were probably thinking of Hunk, the yellow paladin? The brilliant mechanic? Or Pidge? She's the green paladin and a tech genius."

Lotor frowned and opened his mouth, but Lance cut him off. He wasn't done.

"Unless you were talking about combat skills? Then that would be Keith. He's the red- I mean, black paladin. I think. It's, uh, a bit complicated. Anyway, he's like a ninja. I don't think you meant Shiro since he's pretty distinguishable what with his arm and everything but if you really didn't mean him then that's totally your loss because, c'mon, who _doesn't_ want Shiro? And Allura—"

"Enough!"

Lance froze and looked up at Lotor, whose lips were now pressed in a thin line. There was anger in the crease of his brow and…confusion? Was he starting to regret his choice?

"I do not make mistakes! You are here because I wished for it. I haven't had the pleasure of challenging Voltron for long but I've gone over my father's reports. You're a strategist, blue paladin. A strategist who outsmarted the Galra forces time after time."

Lance shook his head. "I mean, I do improvise when we're in a tight spot, but I'm not the one who comes up with our plans."

"That's irrelevant. The ability to assess a situation as it's happening and act accordingly is key to success. Not to mention your marksmanship than enables you to cover your comrades from afar. You're a sniper, are you not?"

"I…yeah, but—"

"The fact that you don't seem to value your own importance does not mean that you can question my judgement. I have the paladin I need."

Lotor's voice had a sullen edge to it that gave Lance the feeling that he'd just offended him somehow, which was absurd. He wasn't too worried about it, though- Lance was far too occupied with rationalizing what he'd just heard.

Lotor seemed convinced that he had the right paladin and he had mentioned Lance's sharpshooting, so he probably really did mean to kidnap him. Which was all fine and dandy but it meant that either Lotor's judgement was impaired or that he'd taken him for a different reason.

And as his team had learned that Lotor was a dangerous opponent, Lance was partial to believing the latter.

Until he figured out what Lotor really wanted to do with him, though, he'd have to play along.

"Okay, okay, I got it. You want me on your team. But why the fuck would I help you? In case it slipped your mind, you _kidnapped_ and _tortured_ me. I certainly haven't forgotten."

Lance had tried to keep his voice speculative, as this was all theoretical, but he couldn't help the bitterness that seeped through his words. Lotor's certainty wavered for a moment and Lance caught his eyes glance at his ear.

Lance loved mirrors. He loved what he saw. Sure, he wasn't a pretty boy like Keith or an absolute hunk like Shiro, but he knew he had a certain rugged charm that drew people to him like a magnet. The bathroom in his new room didn't have a mirror, though, and Lance hadn't wanted to ask for one. He knew that he was beaten up and his ear…well, Zethrid had only clipped the tip, really, but Lance was more than a little scared to see the damage reflected back at him.

"I…regret the method that brought you here, but it was the only way. You wouldn't have come on your own. And as for the torture…I said that I don't make mistakes, but I misjudged Zethrid's enthusiasm. I only meant for her to scare you enough to make you seek the refuge I offered. I didn't think she would go so far as to…"

"Disfigure me?" Lance snapped. He hadn't expected Lotor to be so frank with him, but he was more than a little irritated with the explanation. "Zethrid is a bloodthirsty sadist and if you thought for a moment that letting her torture me just to scare me was a good idea, well, then you're just plain stupid."

Lotor's eyes widened in shock, but Lance wasn't done.

"Unless you really wanted her to do her job and get intel outta me, in which case, she was a great choice and you're lying to me now just to get me to like you and spill what I didn't tell her. Either way, you're a creep and I'd rather die before joining up with the likes of you."

For a moment Lance thought he'd gone too far and he'd be strangled by a very angry prince, but a few seconds passed and nothing happened. Lance wondered if Lotor had gone into shock and the grin that spread on the alien's face did little to dissuade him from the idea.

"I've never had anyone speak to me with such disrespect before," Lotor drawled with no little amusement in his voice. "In normal circumstances I would've slit your throat, but that would be counterproductive, don't you think?"

Lance offered him a weak and somewhat bewildered smile.

"Don't you see, paladin? You just proved my point. Your critical thinking is what makes you an excellent strategist. I _need_ you."

Lance made a frustrated sound from the back of his throat. "You haven't been listening to a word I said! Let me sum it up for you: I don't trust you and I'd never betray my friends for you. Do whatever you want with me, but I'm not joining you. End of story."

"On the contrary. I've been paying very close attention to your every word, blue paladin. I understand why you think negatively about me now but I hope that, with time, I can help you see my side."

"I highly doubt that," Lance muttered, but Lotor simply chuckled and stood up.

"I hope you feel better soon, paladin. You seem to care a lot for your friends, stating all their names and strengths, which is very perceptive of you. But you haven't mentioned your own name so far."

Lance paused. He hadn't thought too deeply about it, but he'd assumed that Lotor had an archaic way of addressing people by their title. It didn't occur to him that he just didn't know what else to call him.

…it wouldn't hurt to tell him his name, would it?

"…The name is Lance," he said reluctantly, crossing his arms. "And don't you dare forget it!"

Lotor's face lit up.

"Lance…" Lotor said his name slowly, rolling every syllable on his tongue in a weird way that made Lance want to hear it again. His eyes widened a fraction when Lotor met his gaze with a smirk.

"How could I ever forget such a name?"

Lance's mouth grew dry as he watched Lotor turn around a leave the room. It was only when the door closed that Lance realized with a start that his face was warm.

What the fuck?

* * *

 _Hello everyone! Apologies for the delayed update- I was on vacation these past two weeks. Sunday updates will resume this coming Sunday! :)_

 _Also, if you're enjoying the story, I'd love to hear from you! Comments make my day ;w;_


	4. Chapter 4

So, here's the deal.

Two weeks had passed since Lance had been drugged and forcefully taken to Lotor's ship and he was starting to get antsy. Well, he'd been stir-crazy for the last few days, as he hadn't been allowed out of his room and had next to nothing to occupy himself with. Syna insisted that he was meant to rest as much as possible as his 'fragile human body' required sleep to recover, but how could they expect Lance to stay in bed 24/7?

He secretly wondered if Lotor had planned it all so that Lance would be eager for their conversations and listen to what he said. The fact that he still had trouble sitting up and walking around was irrelevant. Hell, that was probably part of the plan, too.

But even knowing that his attention was premeditated didn't stop Lance from looking forward to his daily meals with Lotor. They were his only respite from the sole company of his mind and he just couldn't concentrate on anything when the room was so quiet. How was he supposed to plan his escape if he couldn't even focus long enough to decide what he wanted for dinner?

"…are you feeling well, Lance?"

It'd been a few days since Lance had told Lotor his name, but it still sent a confusing thrill up his spine when he heard him say it. Lance tried not to think too much about it. Actually, he really couldn't. At this rate, he was going to go crazy by the end of the week.

"What, aside from my broken body and slowly losing my mind? Nah, I'm good, buddy. How's your day been?"

Lotor set down his glass, startled. They shared the small bedside table on the left side of Lance's bed to set and eat their meals on and Lance often wondered why Lotor would do so when he could eat on a big, normal table with his team. But hey, he wasn't the ruler of an empire, so what did he know?

"That can't be. Syna told me that you were recovering! They would've informed me if you were suffering from mental trauma."

Lance rolled his eyes and took a sip from his water. "It's an expression- I'm not actually traumatized or anything, though I have every reason to be. At least I don't think I am. Who knows? Anyway, what I mean is that I'm going crazy just sitting here all day."

The crease in Lotor's brow smoothed and he took a bite from his plate- some kind of weird Galra appetizer. If there was one good thing about his stay on Lotor's ship was the seemingly endless supply of food from Earth. His 'host', as Lotor liked to call himself, said that it all came from space malls and traders who specialized in Earth products. Lance had no choice but to believe him. The alternative was…well. He didn't want to think about it.

"You know I cannot let you out of your room, Lance," Lotor shrugged. "You can barely leave your bed to relieve yourself."

Lance coughed on his piece of bread and felt his face burn with shame. "W-why do you know that? Are you spying on me?"

Lotor's lips curved in a small, smug smile that Lance desperately wanted to wipe off his face. "I have no need to spy on you. Syna reports your progress to me, remember? It was simply something they noted in their latest reports."

"…ugh."

Lance stretched out his legs and settled back down on the pillows, his appetite gone. "That's not the point. I'm bored and if I crack I won't be able to be your strategist or whatever you wanted from me."

"Does that mean that you're considering my offer?"

"What? No! I'm just saying, y'know, in theory. We're both interested in me staying sane, right?"

Lotor leaned back in his chair and regarded him carefully. "I'm not letting you out until you're—"

"I know, I know, healthy. But we both know that's not the reason, Lotor. You think I'll run away if you do."

Lotor raised a brow. "And we both know that you would."

They met each other's gazes for a tense moment before Lance sighed and reached out for the rest of his bread.

"Look, all I'm asking for is something to keep me occupied. I don't _have_ to leave the room to be entertained. Books, movies, games- anything! If I have to count the number of bolts in the walls one more time I swear I'm gonna lose it!"

Lotor snorted, much to Lance's indignation.

"Don't laugh at me! I'm desperate!"

"I didn't think your boredom was so severe. Very well, then. I'll try to find things that might help you pass the time. Let it not be said that I'm not a gracious host."

Lotor had plenty to say about Lotor's 'hosting' skills, but refrained from uttering any of it just in case Lotor might be offended and take back his promise. Lance sometimes lacked tact, but he wasn't stupid. He knew how to work for what he wanted.

And if he wanted any chance of escaping, or at the very least giving his friends his coordinates, he needed to leave this room. And to do that, he needed to earn Lotor's trust.

…he was going to have to play along, wasn't he?

.x.

If Lotor wanted a strategist, well, Lance was going to become one. He had little else to do while sitting alone in his room than think of different ways to return to the Castle of Lions. In the end, all of them boiled down to two key factors- Lotor's trust and Lance's physical health.

Lance wasn't sure how long it took for fractured ribs to sort themselves out but he was slowly regaining his ability to walk around the room without grabbing his side in pain at the exertion. He paid close attention to Syna's daily checkups, asking them questions but making sure not to sound too interested lest they report to Lotor any suspicious behavior. According to the druid, however, his recovery was going well.

Which was great and all, but it meant that Lance had a limited amount of time to convince Lotor that he wasn't at flight risk. He needed Lotor to let him out of his room because he was feeling better, not because he made a conscious decision to trust him. That needed to come before.

It couldn't be an immediate change, either. Lotor was sharp and would easily see through Lance's act if he felt like he'd changed his mind overnight. Lance had to draw it out, to make it look as if Lotor's actions were slowly convincing him to join his ranks. Lotor wouldn't fall for it if the change came from Lance alone.

Which was why Lance made a point to look very pleased when Lotor walked into his room the next day and offered him an old, battered copy of Jane Eyre.

"I commanded my officers to get me the longest Earth book they could find in the market, and this is what they came back with," Lotor said as he handed Lance the book, looking proud. "I can't read a word of it but it looks like it will take a few days to finish. I hope you'll find it an interesting read."

Lance didn't have the heart to tell Lotor that he'd already read it for a book report in 9th grade.

"Wow, it does look hefty!" Lance said eagerly as he took the book and leafed through it. The title page had a stamp from a library Lance had never heard of in Maine, dating 1992. Where Lotor's generals had gotten an old library book was a mystery. Maybe there were more aliens out there that collected Earth memorabilia?

"Thank you so much!" Lance set the book down at his side and beamed. Lotor looked at him for a long moment before clearing his throat and tucking a strand of silver hair behind his ear.

"I…I'm glad you like it. I'll bring you something else tomorrow," Lotor promised before quickly excusing himself. Lance watched with a satisfied smile as Lotor left the room.

Heh. He'd been flustered, hadn't he? Lance often felt so himself, so he knew how to recognize it in others. In fact, it was kind of cute how Lotor had felt the need to primp—

 _Nope_ , Lance caught himself. _Not even going there._

Hoping to distract himself, Lance carefully opened the book and steeled himself for his reacquaintance with Jane and Mr. Rochester.

.x.

"Are you enjoying the toy I gave you at breakfast?"

Lance continued to chew his PB&J sandwich, giving himself a few more seconds to think of a proper reply. He couldn't tell Lotor that he'd ditched it after a few minutes in favor of doing a set of pushups before retiring to his bed for a nap. He was trying to work his muscles as much as possible, but Lance was worried about straining himself. If Syna noticed any kind of regression his whole plan would be at risk.

So no, he'd smile and regale Lotor with details about the hours of marvelous fun he spent with his new yoyo.

Honestly, Lance didn't know what to do with half the items Lotor procured for him. Each day he got a different piece of useless, outdated junk that Lotor's minions had found for him only God knew where.

A broken Gameboy, a used jumping rope, an old Lisa Frank journal… Lotor kept surprising him. He'd even tried to give him a Playboy magazine the other day.

"I liked it," Lance finally said, wiping the crumbs from his lips with the back of his sleeve. He'd been given tunics not too unlike sleeping gowns and while Lance would've felt more comfortable in a pair of pants (he hated the chafing), he was secretly grateful to have not been forced to wear a prisoner's uniform.

Lotor pursed his lips. "No, you didn't. You're lying to me, though I cannot fathom why. Are you trying not to…hurt my feelings?"

"No! I mean, uhm…" Lance bit his lip at the expression on Lotor's face. He'd been caught. It was time to switch gears.

"Okay. Fine. You got me," Lance dangled his legs over the edge of the bed and held the yoyo in his hands. "I really appreciate your efforts in getting me stuff, I really do, and I guess I just didn't want to seem ungrateful."

Lotor raised his brows. "You seemed pleased with them at first. Did something change?"

Lance sighed. "I…I guess I figured out that I wasn't as excited with the toys themselves as I was with the moment I got them."

"…I'm afraid I don't understand."

"What I'm saying is that I'm lonely, Lotor, and you're the only person I've had real conversations with for the past two weeks. I'd much rather have you here than some old book, y'know?"

Lotor blinked and leaned back in his chair. "Do you mean that you'd prefer my company? I thought you hated me."

Lance recognized the hesitation in Lotor's eyes and quickly determined that he'd been coming on too hard. He needed to downplay this, fast.

"Well not _you_ , specifically. You're just the only person who talks to me. You could put anyone in here with me for an hour and I'd be happy."

"Oh? Would you like me to ask Zethrid to keep you company?"

Lance's hands stopped their fidgeting with the yoyo and he looked up at Lotor, sincerely hoping that he was joking. He flinched when he saw Lotor reach out and felt him cupping his cheek in his palm.

"I apologize, Lance. That wasn't kind of me."

Lance expected Lotor to pull his hand right away, but it lingered, rubbing his thumb soothingly over Lance's skin. What surprised Lance even more was that he actually…didn't mind it. He realized with a jolt that he couldn't remember the last time someone touched him with affection.

Lotor's hand was warm.

Their eyes met and before Lance knew what was happening, Lotor's hand was gone and he'd pushed back from the chair.

"I'll try to come visit you more often," he said gruffly, not quite meeting Lance's gaze. "Should my schedule allow it."

It was a victory, no matter how Lance looked at it. One step closer to getting Lotor to lower his guard around him.

Then why did Lance feel a little empty as he watched Lotor leave the room?

.x.

True to his word, Lotor's visits to Lance's room grew more frequent. By his third week Lance practically felt like Lotor shared his room. Which was nice, but that meant that Lotor was there to see his daily checkups with Syna and personally see his progress. He had very little time to work out, too, though he refused to stay in bed the whole day.

"How do you expect to regain your strength if you're sprawled out on the floor like that?!"

"It's called stretching, Lotor. It's good for you."

Lotor stood next to him with his arms folded, a scowl on his face. He looked close to scooping Lance up and depositing him on the bed himself. It wouldn't have been the first time.

"I'm well aware of stretching. I'm also aware of your limits, which you seem to ignore. Don't you realize that—"

"Humans aren't as weak as you think!" Lance snapped, looking up at Lotor from his plank. It was a little difficult to talk as he was trying to suck in his stomach and keep himself up, but he had a point to prove. "If you think I'm so pathetic, why the hell do you want me on your team?"

Lotor bared his teeth, something Lance hadn't seen him do unless he was really pissed. "I don't think you're weak or pathetic, Lance. Do you think I would've bothered visiting you every day if I did?"

"Well," Lance's voice was strained and his ribs were killing him, but he'd rather die than take a break now. "I think you, ngh, are a sad person to seek the company of an idiot who, ugh, apparently can't even take care o-of himself."

"You're correct," Lotor said coolly. "I'd be a fool to continue to stay where I'm obviously not wanted."

"Then w-why won't you just, ah, take the hint and go?!"

"I will!"

Lance's arms were shaking and his breaths came in short, shallow pants. He willed himself not to break, to keep it up just until Lotor left the room, but something in his chest made him feel like he'd just been stabbed and he crumpled to the floor, crying out in pain. Lotor was immediately at his side, lifting him up and calling for help.

Lance almost smiled as he drifted into oblivion. He briefly wondered how many more times the world would fade away while he rested in Lotor's arms.

.x.

Okay, so maybe challenging workouts that required deep and steady breathing weren't the best idea when one had a fractured rib. Or two. Lance had never bothered to ask how many Zethrid had damaged in her torture session. He'd woken up to Syna fussing over him and a tight bandage wrapped around his chest. He freaked out a bit when he realized that the bandages were oozing something that smelled horrible and moving on their own but Syna had simply slapped his hands away while muttering something about a fever.

Lance had blacked out soon after.

When he came to he was, much to his surprise, alone. Lance's room didn't have a window or a clock so he could never tell the time, but he'd learned to estimate it depending on Lotor's comings and goings. Of course, for all he knew Lotor could be eating breakfast food with him in the middle of the afternoon but what was time if not essentially subjective?

Lance's head throbbed at the thought and he groaned. This was not the time to debate Daylight Saving. His breath was sour and his face felt like he hadn't cleaned it for a week. Which could very well be the case for all he knew.

That did it. He needed a shower, ASAP.

It was a bit of a struggle to reach the bathroom. Lance had stood up too quickly and had to sit down for a minute before the room stopped spinning (again). His side ached as he made his way to the sink and, after drinking and splashing water on his face, he brushed his teeth. There wasn't any mirror to flash a smile at in the end of his routine but Lance didn't quite so mind anymore.

He didn't really want to know if he looked like a train wreck. It was enough that he felt like one.

The bath didn't take long to draw and by the time Lance stripped and submerged himself in the warm water, he was starting to feel a little bit like his normal self. Lotor had made sure to supply him with plenty of scented soaps and lotions and while Lance's nose wrinkled at most of them, there were a few that he enjoyed. He hummed softly as he applied some kind of cinnamon-smelling cream on his arms.

Cinnamon…

"It's oatmeal. At least, that's what it's supposed to taste like."

Keith licked his lips. Lance immediately noticed that the crumb from Hunk's cake was gone.

"The consistency is different, but I can taste the similarity. I always made mine from an instant mix," Keith's smile was a bit sheepish. "I did try to add a dash of cinnamon to feel like I did more than add boiling water, though. I think I can taste it in yours?"

Lance's throat felt sore and he swallowed thickly, trying to hold back the tears. This was not the time and place to break down. Shiro hadn't spent his time in captivity crying like a baby because he missed his friends, right?

…

Lance wondered how they were all doing, without him. When exactly they realized that he was gone. Were they angry at him? Did they think he was weak to have been captured? Did they even know that he was kidnapped? They…they wouldn't think he ran away, right?

No, of course not. He hadn't taken any of the lions or one of the other small ships they sometimes used in emergencies. Nothing should've been missing from the castle aside from him. And there were probably cameras that documented his kidnapping.

That is, unless his kidnappers had done something to the cameras while breaking in. But then the tampering itself would be enough of a sign to prove that there was foul play involved.

At least, that's what Lance hoped. He didn't know what he'd do if his teammates actually thought that he'd left them out of his own free will.

No. He trusted his team, and they trusted him. They were probably worried sick about him just like they'd worried about Shiro. Hell, they couldn't even form Voltron without him!

…though that wasn't necessarily true, was it? The lions had eventually adapted to Shiro's absence by accepting Allura as one of the paladins. Why wouldn't they do the same now that he was gone? There had been an awkward extra when Shiro returned. Now that Lance was gone, the balance would've been restored. Shiro could pilot red—

Stop it!

Lance realized that he'd dug his nails into his arms and pulled away, hissing at the burning sensation the scratch left. He rubbed some more of the cinnamon lotion on the crescent-shaped marks and sniffed.

There. He'd had his moment of wallowing in self-pity. Now he had to get himself together and soldier forward. He could do this. He was a paladin of Voltron, dammit, and he'd make his team proud!

The rest of his bath was short and by the time Lance wrapped a towel around his waist and around his head, he felt like a new person. He opened the door of the bathroom and walked into his room, toweling his hair when he raised his eyes and stopped short.

Lotor was right there, perched on the foot of his bed, looking at his bare skin with wide eyes.

Lance let out an undignified squawk and dropped the towel in his hands, leaving him only with the one tied around his waist. He crossed his arms over his chest defensively. Lance was pretty sure that the heat he felt on his face wasn't just from his bath.

"W-what are you doing here?!"

Lotor's face looked a little flushed, but he didn't look away.

"I came to make sure that you weren't trying to kill yourself again."

"Kill myself…?"

Lotor frowned. "You were critically ill these last few days. That little 'stretching' exercise almost cost you your life, paladin."

Lance flinched. Lotor hadn't called him that since he'd told him his name. He must be pissed.

"I-I just wanted you to stop babying me," Lance said quietly, looking down at the floor. "And I needed to stretch my muscles."

"You obviously need to be watched over for your own good," Lotor pursed his lips. His eyes lingered on the scratch marks on Lance's arm.

Lance bristled.

"You can't keep me locked in here forever!" He hissed. "If you really care about how I feel, you'd let me out!"

"I can and I will," Lotor spat. He stood up suddenly and Lance wasn't prepared for the looming figure that rushed at him and grabbed his wrists, pinning them over his head and pushing him back against the wall.

For the first time since meeting him, Lance looked up at Lotor with fear in his eyes.

"You forget why you're here," Lotor sneered. "I'm the commander of this ship and everyone on it, including you, must obey me. You will not tell me what I can and cannot do, do you understand?"

Lance audibly swallowed. This wasn't working out the way he'd planned.

"I said, do you understand?"

The grip on his wrists tightened and Lance winced. His eyes began to fill with tears, much to his mortification.

"How do you expect me to trust you when all you do is imprison and threaten me?"

Lance's words were spoken quietly, but Lotor was close enough to hear every last one. His eyes widened a fraction and he pulled away abruptly, shooting Lance a glare.

"I've showered you with gifts, spent most of my days with you despite my officers' ridicule and have only cared for your health. What more do you want?"

Lance lowered his arms and massaged his wrists carefully. He could hear the frustration in Lotor's voice. It echoed his own.

"I want my freedom, Lotor. I want to be able to leave this godforsaken room. I don't know what I might do to myself if I have to stay here another day."

"…"

Lotor looked at him for a long moment before sitting back down on the bed, holding his head in his hands. He looked up at Lance with a tired smile.

"You do realize that your friends have moved on, don't you? I refrained from telling you this before as I didn't want to distress you, but I fought Voltron this week."

Lance felt as if an ice-cold grip was squeezing his insides.

"No, you're lying. You're just saying that to make me doubt them."

Lotor raised a brow and reached out to spread his fingers in the air in front of him. Similar to Allura, a digital screen appeared and he pressed something before pushing it in Lance's direction. Lance watched it warily as it drew close.

It was a video clip.

A wave of nausea welled up in Lance's stomach as he saw Voltron fending off Galra drones in an area Lance didn't recognize. It couldn't be an old video, then. Somehow, his friends had managed to form Voltron.

Without him.

Is this how Shiro felt…?

The playback paused and when Lance raised his gaze to look at Lotor, he realized that his vision was blurry. Fuck. He hadn't wanted Lotor to know how much the video had gotten to him.

But there wasn't any smug victorious smile on Lotor's face. Rather, he looked a little…resigned?

"It's true that your friends don't need you anymore, Lance. But I do. Can't you see that? Their loss is our gain. With you on my side, I have no doubt that we can defeat Voltron and restore peace and stability to the universe."

Lance grit his teeth and wiped away his tears. His half-dressed situation mattered very little at this point. "Don't sell me that crap! The Galra Empire has done nothing but bring misery to the planets it enslaved and destroyed!"

Much to his shock, Lotor nodded. His face was drawn and he met Lance's eyes with a serious frown.

"I do not deny the tragedies my people have brought unto others. But I'm not my father, Lance. His goals are not mine. He wanted to capture and destroy planets for their quintessence. I want to rule them for their own benefit."

Lance shook his head.

"Believe me, Lotor, I've read enough history books to know where this is headed. You probably think you're somethin' special because you're Galra, right? That you're superior to other races? Well, fuck that and fuck you. You have no right to take control over other planets and make them live their lives the way you want them to."

Lotor frowned. "You misunderstand me. I believe you need to rest."

"Um, I don't think so," Lance narrowed his eyes. He closely followed Lotor's movements as he stood up and approached him, but unlike his assault before, all he did was place his hands on Lance's shoulders.

Lance shivered. The way they rested on his bare skin felt rather…intimate.

"Let's make a deal," Lotor said softly, catching Lance's eyes and for the life of him, Lance couldn't imagine looking anywhere else. "You humor me and take a nap and I'll take you on a walk around the halls after dinner. Do you find that satisfactory?"

Lance wanted to bristle at the idea of being 'taken on a walk' like some dog, but the promise of a chance to leave his room was too hard to resist. And, well, Lotor's low voice had something a bit sultry about it and he was really just way too close to think coherently.

"Y-yeah. Okay. Deal!"

Lotor offered him a warm smile before stepping back and excusing himself. Lance continued to stand where he was even after Lotor had left, trembling with excitement at the prospect of freedom.

The places where Lotor had settled his hands were still warm.


	5. Chapter 5

Lance could feel his face splitting in a wide grin as he stepped out of his room for the first time. Lotor had given him new clothes (a proper pair of pants and a shirt this time) and he was anxious to stretch his legs and explore. Lotor chuckled but Lance literally couldn't give a damn if the Galra emperor found him amusing.

This was what he'd been waiting for.

"Feel free to guide us, Lance. This walk is for you."

Lance felt no need to question it. He merely nodded and started to walk, drinking in the new scenery. It felt odd to walk down the halls of a Galran ship without his armor on and when they passed a group of sentries, Lance froze.

How was he supposed to protect himself if he didn't have his bayard?

"…Lance?"

Lance took a deep breath and took a cautious step forward. He really shouldn't have been surprised at the way the robots stopped and saluted them as they passed. He was with their leader- there was no reason for them to attack him.

They continued to walk down the halls in silence. Lance tried to appear casual as he took everything in, making note of the twists and turns but after fifteen minutes of walking around, he gave up. Everything looked the same and he hadn't stumbled across anything of significance.

"I don't get you," Lance eventually broke the silence. He didn't have to look at Lotor to know that he was listening. "How can you actually think that you're the good guy? You're the one everyone's afraid of. Nobody is glad to see you. There's a very good reason for it."

Lance waited for a reply, but none came. He sneaked a glance at Lotor but all he could see was his stony expression as they continued to walk. Lance figured that he'd given Lotor some food for thought.

That was, until Lotor opened his mouth as they turned the corner.

"This might be a little difficult for you to accept, Lance, but I don't see this war as a fight between good and evil. Life is more complex than that. I see myself as the leader of a great empire who has to take responsibility for his father's actions."

Lance perked up. "Then we're on the same page! All you need to do is liberate all those planets and—"

"You aren't listening. I told you, things aren't always so simple. You cannot expect a planet that's been enslaved for many generations to rehabilitate on their own- it's like expecting an infant to teach itself how to walk."

"But babies do teach themselves how to walk," Lance pointed out. "That's how it works, at least for human babies. It's something everyone learns to do eventually."

"Ah, but the infant would need an environment that will allow it to focus on their efforts. If a child is distracted by hunger and worried for their safety, they wouldn't have the luxury to focus on their studies."

"…what are you trying to say?"

Lotor paused and pointed to a door at the end of the hall. "Those are my chambers, by the way, should you ever need to find me."

Lance cleared his throat and nodded, trying not to think of scenarios in which he might want to seek Lotor out in his rooms.

"What I was trying to say is that it would be irresponsible of me to leave the planets my father enslaved to fend for themselves. They lack the experience and resources to rebuild themselves. By remaining part of the Galra Empire, they will be provided for as our allies."

Lance frowned. He didn't like the direction their conversation was going in. He didn't completely agree with what Lotor was saying, but on the other hand, some of the things he said made sense.

"Why can't you just help them out without ruling them?"

Lotor's lips spread in a wide smile.

"You forget that I'm the leader of an empire, Lance. I do not have infinite resources to hand out to every planet that's been wronged. I cannot revive a race on the backs of my own people. The more colonies I secure for the Galra, the more resources I can divide between them."

Lance's head throbbed.

"…but they don't want your help. They want to be free."

Lotor shrugged. "A parent doesn't abandon their child simply because they wish to be liberated. They make sure that they've learned their lessons before helping them adapt to the world."

"So what you're basically saying is that when you're fighting Voltron, you're basically dealing with a teenage rebellion?"

Lotor chuckled. "That's an interesting way to put it."

Lance stopped in his tracks and rubbed his arm awkwardly. He was way out of his element. He knew that Lotor was wrong- why else would smart people, people like Allura and Coran whom he respected, fight against him?

 _Maybe because they haven't heard his reasoning?_

Lance shook his head. He couldn't afford to doubt himself. Not now, when he was so close to finding a way out.

"I-I'm kinda tired," he said quietly. "Can we go back to my room, now?"

It could've been the trick of the light, but Lance would've sworn that Lotor's eyes softened.

"Yes. Of course."

The guiding hand Lotor placed on the small of Lance's back felt far more reassuring than he would care to admit.

.

.x.

.

Lance wrinkled his nose as he looked down at his wrists. Each one had a glowing purple bracelet pressed tightly against his skin, like a cuff. They didn't weigh much, but he could feel the matching pair on his ankles.

"Are these really necessary?"

"They're simply a precaution," Lotor said smoothly, watching Lance's distaste with a smug smile. "They also happen to be my condition for your leaving the room and exploring the ship. These will make sure that I'll always be able to find you. I'm aware that you've more or less recovered, but we wouldn't want to take any chances with your health."

Lance gave Lotor a knowing look. "You really mean that you want to find me if I escape, right?"

Lotor shrugged. "Regardless of the purpose, they will give me your location. I simply ask that you bear that in mind."

Lance huffed and tugged down his sleeves. He knew better than to barter at this point. He'd like to think that after spending a month with Lotor, he'd come to recognize his moods. He knew when Lotor could be persuaded and when to just accept his terms.

He'd been studying him. Just like he used to study Keith.

Lance hadn't noticed Lotor's movements until he felt a hand on his arm. He looked up to see Lotor looking at him with a frown.

"Is there something on your mind?"

Lance hesitated for a moment before catching himself. Was he seriously considering having a heart-to-heart with Lotor? His glorified jailor?

"Nah," Lance forced his mouth into a weak grin and shook Lotor's hand off of his arm. He tried not to think too deeply about the flash of hurt in Lotor's eyes as he backed off.

"I'm good. I think I'll go show off my new accessories, if you don't mind."

Lance thought that Lotor would insist on accompanying him, but he simply tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and shrugged.

"Be my guest. I'll make sure the servants clean up our meal."

Lance left the room without looking back. It served Lotor right to feel awkward. How could he have expected anything else when he'd basically ordered Lance to wear his own ball and chain?

Lance fidgeted with the cuffs as he walked down the hall. He knew that they wouldn't come off so easily, but it was worth a try. He wasn't really paying attention to where he was going and after a few minutes of quickly passing sentries he decided to take a break.

His nerves were a mess and so was his mind. All Lance wanted was to see his friends again. Was that too much to ask?

"Ooh, look Acxa! It's the paladin!"

Lance tensed at the familiar voice and dropped his right hand to his side, waiting for his bayard to materialize only to remember that it wouldn't. Not here, not without his suit. His hand curled into a fist instead as he looked up to see two aliens approaching him.

He recognized the first one- how could he forget his kidnapper? She looked at him with a frown and Lance felt her dislike oozing from her in waves. The voice hadn't belonged to her, however, and Lance turned to look at the other alien next to her.

Now this one didn't look familiar. She was the one whose voice he'd recognized, but Lance couldn't remember seeing her. No, that wasn't true- now that he thought about it, he could recall brief flashes of color attacking him and his team from odd angles.

This alien was striking, what with her red skin and multi-colored stripes. Lance wouldn't have been able to forget seeing someone like her. Then why was only her voice familiar?

"So how're you feelin'? Looks like Lotor finally let you out!"

Lance regarded them both warily. The colorful alien was all smiles, but she must've been one of Lotor's generals. Acxa didn't look too comfortable with her companion's familiarity as well.

"Ezor, we should go," Acxa grabbed the other alien's hand and tried to tug her down the hall.

Ezor, however, went in a different direction. Lance took a step back as she grew closer.

"It's impolite to ignore someone when they're talking to you, y'know. You _can_ talk, right? Zethrid didn't mention cutting out your tongue…"

Lance stiffened. "Do I know you?"

Ezor's expression brightened. "So you can talk! Don't you remember me? We were rather…closely acquainted."

Lance's face mirrored Acxa's discomfort. "Um…no offense, but I don't think I've seen you up close before."

Something gleamed in Ezor's eyes and Lance watched with fascination as she disappeared. He gasped as he felt a puff of air on his ear.

"That's because you haven't."

There was a flash of color and Ezor materialized at his side, leaning against his shoulder. Lance met Acxa's eyes in a silent plea. It felt surrealistic to be asking a favor from his kidnapper, but it seemed like they both wanted the same thing.

"Ezor! That's enough. You know we aren't supposed to engage with the prisoner."

Ezor huffed and pulled away, much to Lance's relief. But Ezor remained next to him and Lance could feel the way she seized him up.

"But aren't you curious to know why Lotor spends so much time with him?"

Acxa shook her head and crossed her arms. "It's none of our business."

"Hey, paladin," Ezor grinned at Lance. "We go waaaay back, don't we? C'mon, you can tell us! What do you do all day behind that locked door?"

Lance raised a brow. "I wouldn't call 'tackling and drugging' as going way back. And it's not really all that interesting. We just…talk."

Lance wasn't sure if he was supposed to be having a conversation with Lotor's generals, but damn, it'd been a long time since he'd had one with someone who wasn't Lotor and Syna, who barely spoke at all. It felt good.

Acxa and Ezor exchanged looks.

"I find that hard to believe," Acxa said as she leaned back against the opposite wall. It looked like she'd given up on leaving anytime soon.

"Yeah," Ezor added, giving him a pointed look. "Nobody just 'talks' for that much time every day."

Lance huffed. "Well, what else would we be doing? Playing cards?"

"I don't know what cards are, but I can think of a few things…you aren't that hard on the eyes, you know."

Lance blinked. Was Ezor saying what he thought she was saying…?

"Wait. Are you hitting on me?"

Ezor took a quick step back. "Oh nooo, wouldn't even think about touching my boss's pet. Besides," she looked back and offered Acxa a warm smile, "I'm already spoken for."

Lance could feel the heat radiating off his face.

"I-I'm not Lotor's _pet_! That's ridiculous!"

Acxa nodded at Lance's ankles. "You sure look like one."

Lance pulled his sleeves down self-consciously. She did have a point.

"Besides," Acxa continued, "it's obvious that you aren't a simple prisoner of war. He won't let anyone near you."

Ezor rolled her eyes. "Not to mention the way he keeps making excuses to go see you. Whatever you're doing, you must be good at it. I've never seen Lotor so obsessed."

Lance's mind reeled. He'd only interacted with Lotor at face-value. He hadn't thought about what their relationship (if he could call it that) looked like from the sidelines.

"It's nothing like that," Lance insisted. "He's just trying to recruit me. He wants me to join you."

Ezor shook her head.

"He never acted like that with us," she stated. "This is beyond—"

"Ezor!"

Ezor stopped and looked back at Acxa, whose frown sent shivers down Lance's spine. Her patience was obviously spent and Ezor walked over to her with a guilty slouch.

"It's not your place to make speculations," Acxa said harshly, though she offered her hand to Ezor, who was quick to take it. She pushed away from the wall and they started to head in the other direction when she paused to look back at Lance.

"I'd tread carefully if I were you, paladin."

Lance watched them turn the corner, thoroughly confused and slightly spooked.

Was Acxa trying to warn him of something, or was it a threat? Perhaps both? And what did they mean about Lotor being obsessed with him? They weren't doing anything strange! Lotor himself had said that he wasn't interested in him!

 _You know that isn't true._

Lance could remember the way Lotor held him, every lingering touch and his scorching gaze. There was nothing disinterested in the way Lotor treated him. Lance was a pro at love! He could see the telltale signs of attraction a mile away!

…this wasn't good.

* * *

 _Hey guys! Thank you for reading this week's chapter! :) I read every comment I receive, so please don't worry about not having your voices heard. I very much appreciate every single one!_


	6. Chapter 6

Lance took a deep breath.

 _You can do this._

The door slid open.

 _You have to do this._

He left his room, silent as a shadow.

Lance wasn't a stranger to stealth. How many times had he sneaked out of the Garrison to hang out with his friends? Not to mention all the missions his team had gone on, sneaking around Galra ships. This was something Lance knew how to do.

Even with trackers on his arms and legs.

Lance knew he needed to get out ever since he'd woken up and found himself on an enemy ship. But after his run-in with Acxa and Ezor the week before, his escape grew urgent. If he didn't leave now, when he wasn't yet heavily guarded, he didn't know when he'd get another chance.

Every night for the past few days Lance had made it a habit to explore the ship while everyone slept. His last stop was always the kitchen, where he'd get a snack before returning to his room. He had no doubt that someone was always tracking his signal but that was exactly what he wanted.

Lotor needed to think that he was one step ahead. They never spoke about it, but Lance could tell by Lotor's smirk that he thought he knew something that Lance didn't. He assumed that Lance wasn't aware of his clandestine explorations being monitored.

Well, good for him. He could think that if it made him feel better. Lance counted on it.

He left his room around the same time he did every night, going around on his usual route. Whoever was monitoring his movements wouldn't be watching him so closely if he made sure to stick to his regular pattern. Succumbing to the entitled comfort of routine was going to be their big mistake.

Lance would have a very short window of time to reach the launch bay and steal a ship before someone would notice the change in his route. By then he hoped to have put some distance between them.

Of course, it all would've been so much easier if he didn't have those damned cuffs on. But if he tried tampering with them even a bit…Lotor wouldn't let him leave his room ever again.

This plan was Lance's best shot and he was going to take it. He couldn't afford to think about what-ifs. Should he fail…

It went without saying that he wouldn't be getting a second chance.

So Lance moved with all the confidence he could muster as he sneaked down the halls, going his usual route. He couldn't appear rushed or linger in one spot for too long. He had to maintain his pattern to avoid scrutiny.

Metallic footsteps could be heard approaching from his left and Lance deftly turned the corner, plastered against the wall as he silently waited for the patrol to pass. He used the time to try to regulate his breathing. He needed to be calm. Focused.

 _Breathe in. Out. Breathe in— there we go._

Lance continued, walking down the halls with barely a sound. He had to completely rely on himself to keep from getting caught; there was no headset to tell him where to go and no Pidge to warn him of approaching enemies. Lance was on his own.

And he could do this.

Everyone was going to be so proud of him when he returned to the Castle of Lions. Lance wasn't sure how he'd find it, but the first thing he needed to do was to land on a nearby planet and have his cuffs removed. Once he was free from any tracking device he could begin his search for Voltron.

It was a flimsy plan at best, but it was the only one he had.

Shiro seized the moment when he escaped from the Galra. He didn't bid his time and wait until the perfect opportunity presented itself. Keith, too, wouldn't hesitate. Lance was a big fan of plans but sometimes life just didn't work out the way you wanted it to. Sometimes you needed to be a Keith- someone who went with his instincts.

Maybe that's why the Black Lion chose Keith and not him. Maybe that's why it thought Keith would make a better leader.

Lance bit his lip and turned right. This wasn't the time to be thinking like that.

If it were any other night Lance would've taken another right to continue to the kitchen and get his midnight snack, but tonight was going to be different. Lance was going to turn left towards the launch bay. If his calculations were correct, it would take him two minutes to reach its doors, knock out the guards and get in.

He didn't have a second to spare.

 _3…2…1…GO!_

Lance took a sharp left and started running. He rushed down the hall, thankful that he didn't stumble across a patrol. He spotted the two sentries standing guard in front of the doors and wasted no time in knocking into the first one that approached him. Lance felt cold sweat run down his back as he grabbed the robot's gun, shot it and ducked to avoid a shot from its partner.

A few second later found both of the sentries on the ground with burn marks on their chests and the doors to the launch bay wide open. Adrenaline and hope pumped through Lance's veins as he rushed in, his eyes searching wildly for an appropriate ship to hijack and fly away.

He almost jumped when he heard rustling. Lance narrowed his eyes, walking slowly as he held his gun at ready, but when the intruder appeared from in between two ships, Lance lowered his gun in confusion.

What was a cat doing there?

The cat walked up to him and Lance looked around quickly, checking to make sure that no one else was around before crouching down.

"Hey there little guy. Where did you come from?"

Lance reached out to pet it but yanked his hand back when the cat hissed. He cried out in alarm as a hooded figure he hadn't noticed before jumped down from the shadows and shot in their direction. He missed. But before he could try again, the cat pounced and scratched his hand, forcing Lance to drop the gun.

The hooded figure punched him and Lance tripped, landing painfully on his back. He grit his teeth and struggled to push his assailant off him when they held him down. He didn't stand a chance, though- an electric current shocked him from what could only be the cuffs on his arms and legs, leaving them paralyzed. There was nothing he could do aside from throwing the figure a dirty look as they grabbed his shoulders and forced him onto his knees. Though he couldn't move them, Lance's wrists hurt as they were pressed tightly together behind his back.

His anger turned into dread as he saw Lotor towering above him. His eyes were colder than Lance had ever seen them.

This was it. He'd failed. And now he was going to have to face the consequences.

Lance closed his eyes and took a deep breath. If he was going down, he wasn't going to give his enemy the satisfaction of seeing his tears. When he opened his eyes the scene didn't change, but he felt a little calmer.

"Lotor. How…?"

"Did you really think I'd let you walk around by yourself?" Lotor sneered. "Ezor!"

Lance watched in horror as Ezor materialized at Lotor's side. She wasn't smiling anymore.

"You had her follow me? But why?" Lance struggled to understand. Hysteria was starting to creep into his voice. "You had these cuffs to track—"

"The only use for those cuffs is to paralyze their wearer on my command. They do not track your location."

Lance shook his head. Nothing about this made any sense!

"So Ezor's been following me all this time? Why? Why did you lie to me?"

Lotor narrowed his eyes.

"It was a test, and those cuffs were merely a precaution. I gave you a choice and you chose to abuse my trust. You betrayed me, Lance."

Lance's heart was beating wildly in his chest but he pursed his lips and looked up darkly as Lotor grew closer.

"Then you're a fool to trust someone you kidnapped. I told you that I'd never join you but you didn't listen! Of course I'd try to leave!"

Lotor paused. "Choose your words carefully. I'm willing to give you another chance...if you swear your loyalty."

Lance's reaction was automatic. He spat, watching his spittle hit Lotor's boots before looking up with a glare.

"I'd rather die than swear my loyalty to a cold-blooded monster like you!"

Something flashed in Lotor's gaze and Lance shut his eyes tight as he expected the Galra to land a blow. But when nothing happened he opened his eyes to see Lotor's hand hovering in midair, quivering as it deliberated before falling limply to his side. Lance looked up to peer at Lotor's face and felt something akin to a stab when he saw that there were _tears_ in his eyes.

"…Lotor…"

"Take him away," Lotor snapped, turning around and ignoring Lance as he addressed his generals. Lance didn't even try to struggle as the hooded figure that held his hands behind his back started to drag him away. All he could think of was that flicker of emotion he'd seen in Lotor's face.

He'd done the right thing. He'd tried to run away from his enemy and return to his friends.

Then why did he feel guilty?

.

.x.

.

When Lotor had commanded his generals to 'take him away', Lance assumed that he'd won a one-way ticket back to Zethrid's torture chamber. But ten minutes later found him back in his room.

Lance was unceremoniously dropped on his bed and he craned his neck to watch Ezor and the hooded figure leave. He wasn't sure how long his limbs would remain paralyzed. Lance briefly wondered if his glimpse of the hall as the aliens left would be the last he'd see of the world outside his room.

There was no reason for Lotor to let him leave the room for the next ten years, at the very least. Lance made it perfectly clear that he'd waste no opportunity to get himself out.

Figuring that there was no use in staying up in wait, Lance tried to fall asleep. His sleep was fitful, though, full of visions of torture and the gladiator arena. Lance woke up in cold sweat and sat up, thankful that at least his arms and legs were working again. He folded his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, settling his chin on top of his knees and closing his eyes.

He hadn't felt so hopeless and alone in a long time. Lance didn't even crave his friends' company anymore. The only people he could think of were his parents. Of his mother's tight hugs that made him feel warm and loved. Of the way his father always appeared to be the strongest person around. He'd always felt so safe back then, so well protected.

It was a sobering moment when you came to realize that your parents weren't the idealized people you grew up believing they were. When you came to terms that your mother wasn't always going to be there to kiss your scrapes and that your father couldn't protect you- not even if he tried his best.

Hell, not even an ancient alien princess and the garrison hero could save him now. How could Lance have ever believed that he'd successfully escape the leader of the Galra Empire?

He didn't even see the point of trying to stop his tears.

.

.x.

.

"Lance?"

Lance opened his eyes and groaned as the light blinded him. He closed them and curled up beneath the blanket. Crying oneself to sleep was a rather drenching task and Lance felt like he could sleep for another hundred years.

A hand on his shoulder told him that his nap would have to wait. It shook him roughly and Lance shot up in bed, a few sharp words at the ready when he saw Lotor sitting in his usual spot. He didn't look too pleased.

Lance's shoulders sagged, all the fight drained from his body as he leaned back against the pillows. The air between them was thick with tension and Lance couldn't fathom why Lotor was visiting him so soon. He thought Lotor liked cooling off before approaching something. But there he was, looking just as agitated as Lance felt.

"So...to what do I owe the pleasure, _your highness_?" Lance asked bitterly. If he was going to be punished, he didn't want to waste their time on pleasantries.

Lotor gave him a sharp look. "Do you have no sense of self-preservation?"

Lance shrugged. "I guess not. But you're not here to talk about that, are you?"

"Petulancy doesn't suit you, Lance. I suggest you grab a hold of yourself."

"Hah! That's rich, coming from you! You're the one who everyone needs to tread carefully around when you're in one of your moods!"

Lotor bared his teeth. "You're impossible."

"And you're not getting to the point! C'mon, we both know you have more important things to do than waste your time on a nuisance like me! Just spit it out already. Torture? The arena? Forced labor? Maybe public humiliation?"

Lotor leaned back in his chair and frowned. "What are you babbling about?"

"My punishment!" Lance spat. "Y'know, the thing that happens after you catch me doing something you don't like? Just tell me what it is. I can take it."

Lotor's eyes widened for a moment before he rolled them with an impatient sigh.

"I'm the one who decides if and when you'll be punished. That's not why I came to talk to you about, though."

"…it isn't? Then what do you want?"

"Aside from you learning some manners?"

"…"

Lotor shook his head. "I wanted to ask why you ran away."

Lance blinked. "Uh? I think it's pretty obvious? I didn't come here out of my own free will…?"

"No. I didn't ask you why you _thought_ you were running away. I asked _why_ you ran away."

Lance's brow creased with confusion. "I don't understand the difference. I wanted to leave because I didn't want to be here."

Lotor looked at him calmly. "Are you sure? Is that really why you suddenly felt like you needed to leave?"

"I needed to leave ever since I got here! I just needed the time to come up with a plan."

Lotor crossed his arms and raised a brow. "You're lying, paladin. Not only to me, but to yourself as well. We both know why you tried to leave- and it wasn't because you were missing your cat."

Lance narrowed his eyes. "She's a lion, not a cat! And I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Oh, but I think you do, Lance. I really think you do."

Lance's words died on his lips as he looked away. There was something nagging him at the back of his mind, but he wasn't ready to acknowledge it.

"I think," Lotor said softly, leaning just a bit closer, "that you were afraid. But not of me or my people- you were afraid of yourself."

"That's not true!"

Lotor didn't reply.

"I'm not afraid of myself," Lance insisted, though his voice sounded less certain than he would've liked. "That's ridiculous!"

"You were afraid of your wavering conviction," Lotor elaborated. "You heard and saw things that didn't match up with what you believed. That spooked you, and that is why you ran. So that you wouldn't have to face those things that made you uncomfortable."

Lance frowned. "So you think you've got me all figured out, don't you? What makes you so sure that you know me well enough to know what I'm thinking?"

"Because," Lotor looked away, "I feel the same way."

"…what do you mean?"

"I wasn't supposed to spend so much time with you," Lotor said quietly. "That wasn't the original plan. But the more I talked with you, the more worried I became when I realized that my original plan wasn't going to work."

Lance worried his lip. "Why not?"

Lotor suddenly raised his head and looked him straight in the eye.

"Because I started to care."

Lance's eyes widened and his head felt as if he'd been slammed against the floor again. Lotor's words repeated themselves in his mind over and over and Lance dug his nails into his palms in an attempt to focus.

He couldn't believe Lotor's words. They were obviously a trap. But something in his gut twisted in pain as he saw Lotor's vulnerable expression grow blank and as he pushed back from his chair.

"I apologize if my words troubled you," Lotor said stiffly as he stood up. "Please feel free to forget them."

"No!" Lance stumbled to his knees and reached out to grab Lotor's arm as he turned to go. Lotor looked back down at him in confusion.

"No?"

Lance froze. He'd acted out before fully processing what he wanted to say. There was something burning in the back of his throat but he simply couldn't bring himself to give it a voice. He slowly lowered his hand and looked away, not fast enough to miss the look of disappointment on Lotor's face.

"…have a good day, then."

Lance turned away and curled back underneath his covers while he listened to Lotor's footsteps fade as he left the room. He closed his eyes and covered his head with the blanket.

At this rate, Lance wasn't sure what would go first- his mind or his heart. Both of them apparently were working overtime and Lance didn't know what to make of the myriad of emotions wrecking his body.

He really needed to sleep.

* * *

 _Hey everyone! Another week, another chapter! :) Hope you enjoy this installment! And again- I love and cherish every_ review ; _w;_

 _Just to clarify, though. This story was written before season_ 4, _when we were all still speculating about Lotor and his personality. I've seen season five (so! much! Lotor! content!) and if I had to write this story now, it obviously would've been different. Nevertheless, I hope you all can still enjoy this interpretation._


	7. Chapter 7

Lance hadn't really expected the door to open when he climbed out of bed and approached it carefully. The cuffs were still on his wrists and ankles and he wondered if they'd electrocute him again if he got too close. But the door automatically opened, much to his surprise.

"Oh hey, you're alive."

Lance frowned. Okay, maybe it wasn't ask big of a surprise if Ezor was standing right next to it on the other side.

"Aren't you supposed to be invisible?"

Ezor yawned and leaned back against the wall. "Only if you're planning to escape again. You're not going to do that, are you?"

Lance looked at her warily. He wasn't sure what game she was playing.

"Not tonight."

"In that case," Ezor's eyes fluttered closed, "I think I'll take a short nap. It's really tiring standing guard all day, y'know."

Lance blinked. Somehow, that didn't sound right.

"…I could be lying."

Ezor tucked her arms behind her head and cracked an eye open. "But you aren't."

"…no."

"Well there you go," she hummed and closed her eye. "I don't care if you go to the kitchen and get yourself another one of those human snacks of yours. Actually, could you get me a drink while you're at it?"

Lance snorted. Ezor was either really lazy or she was severely underestimating him. Regardless, she didn't seem to see him as a threat. Maybe this was his chance to—

No. He wasn't that stupid. There must be a reason why she was so sure that he wouldn't succeed in running away. Besides, that wasn't what he'd set out to do when he'd decided to leave him room.

"Sure," Lance shrugged and turned to walk down the hall. "See ya!"

"Thanks! Oh, and paladin?"

Lance looked over his shoulder. Both of Ezor's eyes were open now.

"Yeah?"

"Hurt him and I'll cut your fingers off one by one."

Ezor flashed him a wide smile and closed her eyes. Lance shivered and quickly walked away. He hadn't thought that he was being so obvious. But maybe he wasn't- Ezor didn't look like it, but Lance had a strong sense that she was more observant than she let on.

And perhaps Zethrid wasn't the only torturer among Lotor's generals.

Lance grimaced and continued down the hall. He hadn't gone down this way since his first walk with Lotor, but he knew exactly where he was going. He brushed by the sentries posted now at every corner and only stopped when he reached his destination.

Lotor's door.

Lance swallowed and looked around. Nobody was there to see him hesitate. He could still choose to walk away if he wanted to. Hell, he wasn't absolutely sure himself what he was doing there.

Lance took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

He'd come all this way and he wasn't going to leave until he'd said his piece.

The door opened to reveal Lotor's agitated face.

"What is it this time, Zethrid? I told you that— Lance?"

Lotor's frown disappeared and he looked so surprised that Lance couldn't help but offer him a sheepish grin.

"Hey. Can I come in?"

Lotor blinked and quickly opened the door. "Yes, of course. Right this way."

Lance stepped in and waited for Lotor to close the door before following him into the room. The space was large- much larger than Lance's room even in the Castle of Lions- but it was sparsely decorated. The only furniture of note was his wardrobe, desk and bed.

To be fair, it was a _huge_ bed.

"Here," Lotor pulled a chair away from the desk and gestured for Lance to sit down. Lance took his seat quietly and watched as Lotor perched himself on the foot of his bed. Lance quickly took in Lotor's informal attire. This was the first time he'd seen him out of uniform and somehow he looked far less intimidating in a robe.

Lotor cleared his throat.

"Well? Is there something you need?"

Lance shook his head. "No. I mean, yes, there is, but I wouldn't exactly say that I _need_ it. I guess it's more like—"

"Lance."

Lance laughed nervously. "Sorry, sorry, I was rambling. I do that sometimes when I get nervous."

"I'm well aware," Lotor said dryly as he crossed his arms and raised a brow. "Now what are you so nervous about?"

Lance swallowed thickly. "I, um. I need to tell you something."

Lotor looked at him silently. Lance supposed he was to take that as a sign to go on.

"Right. I…I wanted to say that you were right. Not about everything! Just about me being afraid."

Something about the way Lotor's gaze softened gave Lance the confidence to continue.

"I was confused. Still am. I've been fighting for almost a year now and the one thing I've known from day one is that the Galra are evil and that's why Voltron had to defeat them. And Zarkon, I mean your dad…he was the real thing. He was a classic super villain. It was very easy to operate when everything was so black and white. Good versus bad, y'know?"

Lotor nodded silently.

"But then you kidnapped me and I was convinced that you had this diabolical plan to manipulate and use me. Maybe you still do. I was ready to fight, to play games, to do whatever it took to get away from you and your mind games. But…"

"But?"

Lance looked away. "I started doubting myself. You were being nice to me and doing things you didn't _have_ to do in order to gain my trust. And when you explained what you're trying to do in this war, it didn't sound evil at all. You sounded like you were trying to do the right thing the only way you knew how. And that…that was scary."

Lance took a deep breath and continued. "That was scary because that made me wonder if Voltron was doing the right thing, or if we were also misguided. And then I heard from your generals about how obsessed with me they thought you were and I…I guess I panicked. I decided that I needed to get away from here before you could convince me to be someone I'm not."

Lotor cleared his throat. "Then why are you here, Lance?"

"I couldn't understand at first why I felt so warm when you'd touch me," Lance ran his fingers through his hair. "I thought that maybe I was just so desperate for company. But the longer I was with you, the more I realized that I actually _liked_ you. As a person. And that was just as scary."

Lance slowly stood up and bridged the distance between them, coming to a stop in front of Lotor and offering him a nervous smile.

"I wasn't supposed to like the enemy. Not even as a friend. But not only did I like you…I also felt bad whenever I hurt you. And that's an impossible situation because what else are you supposed to do with your enemy side from hurting them?"

Lotor met his gaze.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying…" Lance carefully reached out and placed his hands on Lotor's shoulders. His cheeks were burning but he stood his ground, waiting to see if he'd be pushed away. He felt a spark of relief when he wasn't.

"I'm saying that I don't know if I want you to be my enemy anymore."

Lotor's eyes widened and Lance took the opportunity to draw closer and balance himself on Lotor's knees. His breath hitched in his throat when he felt Lotor's hands grasp his waist to support him.

"Lance…are you sure?"

"Nope," Lance said cheerfully as he leaned forward to wrap his arms around Lotor's neck. "But I'm not sure of anything right now. All I know is that this is what _feels_ right."

Lance felt Lotor's grasp tighten around his waist as he was pulled flush against Lotor's chest. He could feel the warmth radiating from his skin.

"I can't make any promises…" Lotor murmured against Lance's hairline. Lance shook his head with a smile.

"Neither can I. But for one night…"

Lance's head was suddenly yanked back. He yelped in surprise but forgot about the sudden pain when he saw the intense _need_ in Lotor's eyes. His mouth felt dry.

"One night?"

Lance swallowed. "One night."

It happened faster than Lance could process. One moment he was feeling like he was looking into the eyes of a predator, the next he was wrapping his fingers in Lotor's long hair as they pressed their lips together. Lance kissed a few people in the past, but never had he felt his heart swell as he tried to get even closer to the person in his hold.

Lotor's arms squeezed him as they continued to lock lips. Lance was very much occupied with Lotor's soft locks, but Lotor's hands roamed up and down his back in an eager frenzy to feel as much as possible. Lance broke the kiss with a gasp when they finally settled on his ass.

Lotor smirked and leaned back, pulling Lance down with him onto the bed. Lance felt his face burn as he looked down at Lotor, whose loose robe left very little to the imagination. He sat up and ignored Lotor's roaming hands as he delved his own beneath the fabric to run his fingers down Lotor's chest.

Firm and warm.

"Woah," Lance sucked in his breath. "You're stacked!"

Lotor's hands squeezed one last time before moving up to settle on Lance's hips. "Is that a compliment?"

Lance grinned.

"And if it's not?"

Lotor raised a brow and Lance felt a strong tug on his hips. Before he knew it, he was pressed down against the mattress with Lotor hovering above him. Lance licked his lips. He didn't quite mind being trapped between his limbs.

A tremor shook his body as he watched Lotor look him over with unveiled greed. When his eyes settled on his face, Lance was treated to a sinful smile that surely would've left him weak in the knees.

"I thought I'd target something I didn't find attractive about you, but unfortunately I found none."

Lance's face split in a silly grin and he wrapped his arms around Lotor's neck, bringing him down for a kiss. He'd thought that he was the corny one, but apparently he'd finally found his match. Lance was also thrilled to discover that Lotor was one hell of a kisser. It was so easy to lose himself in the kiss- to open his mouth, delve his fingers beneath the collar of Lotor's robe and hook his leg over Lotor's thigh. He moaned as Lotor tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

Lotor's lips soon found the corner of Lance's mouth and Lance tightened his hold as Lotor left a trail of bites and kisses down his jaw and the side of his neck before settling just above his collarbone. Lance gasped as he felt a particularly sharp bite and trembled as Lotor proceeded to suck on the bruise. He didn't need a mirror to know that it'd bloom a dark blue by morning.

"This might just be one night," Lotor murmured as he pressed a kiss to the broken skin, "but I'd like for you to remember it."

Lance raised his hand from the back of Lotor's head to cup his cheek, rubbing his thumb over the soft skin. "Honestly? I don't think I'd ever be able to forget."

Lotor didn't say anything, but he lifted his hand to cup Lance's palm for a long moment before lowering it to his shirt.

"May I?"

"Hm? Oh, I'll do it," Lance grabbed the fabric and pulled, sitting up just long enough to yank his shirt over his head. He held his breath as Lotor's fingers trailed down his sternum. They brushed over the bumps and bruises, the scars and raised skin. He looked up at and met his gaze with what Lance could only describe as guilt.

"Are all of these…?"

Lance looked away. "Not all of them. But…most."

Lotor sucked in his breath and lingered over one particular scar just beneath Lance's ribs. "This won't mean much to you in retrospect, but I truly am sorry."

"It wasn't you, though. Zethrid—"

"-was under my command. I shouldn't have let her get carried away. And your ear…"

Lance flinched. He didn't want to talk about his ear.

"Shh," he whispered, leaning forward to tug at Lotor's robe. "How about you take this off and we'll call it even?"

They were both well aware of the imbalance, but Lance was very grateful when Lotor decided to let the issue go for the moment. He was perfectly happy to watch Lotor (quite literally) disrobe instead. One quick look down revealed that he hadn't been wearing anything else.

Lance was pretty sure that his face was red by the time Lotor crawled back on top of him with a smug smile. He looked like one of those seducing demons his grandmother would warn him about.

 _Oh, well. It's too late for that._

"Like what you see, Lance?"

Lance ran his hands up Lotor's naked arms and grinned.

"You better believe it!"

Lotor offered him a pleased smile and leaned down to press a quick kiss to his lips before trailing down his body. Lance squirmed and reminded himself that this was something he wanted once Lotor's lips reached his navel. He was of age (at least from where he came from) and was very much interested in the direction this was going.

That didn't stop him from being nervous, though.

Lotor hooked one of Lance's legs over his shoulder and started to pull down Lance's PJs when he suddenly looked up.

"Is something wrong?"

"No," Lance said quickly, flashing a smile. This wasn't the time to get cold feet. "I'm good!"

Lotor pursed his lips and set Lance's leg down before hoisting him up into his lap. Lance made a startled sound as he was manhandled but was quick to adapt, wrapping his arms around Lotor's neck without needing to be prompted.

"You aren't ready," Lotor stated, meeting Lance's eyes. "You want it," he rolled his hips and Lance gasped, "but your mind has yet to catch up with your body."

Lance bit his lip. He was supposed to be the playboy, the ever suave and experienced paladin. Why was this so difficult?

"I want it," Lance repeated stubbornly. "I want _you_."

"Maybe," Lotor conceded. "But you might not agree with your decision tomorrow. You're going to regret sleeping with the enemy."

And as much as things had changed between them, Lance knew deep down that Lotor was right. He definitely wanted everything the Galra had to offer right now, but none of that changed the fact that Lotor was Voltron's main antagonizer.

How was Lance supposed to return to his friends and form Voltron to fight someone he'd had sex with?

Lotor looked at him knowingly and both of them sighed. Lance leaned down and pressed his forehead to Lotor's shoulder in defeat. He could feel the Galra's naked arousal pressing against his thigh and his own length hot and hard, chafing the thin fabric of his pants.

There was nothing they could do about it now. Nothing he'd be proud of in the morning.

"I guess I should go back to my room, huh?"

Lotor shook his head. "Only if you want to. I wouldn't be opposed if you choose to stay."

Lance leaned back and met Lotor's eyes. "I want to stay."

The smile that spread across Lotor's face made Lance's heart flutter.

He reluctantly excused himself, untangling his limbs from Lotor's and climbing off the bed. A quick trip to the adjacent bathroom diffused some of the tension in his body. It wasn't all that difficult when Lance could imagine Lotor doing the same on the other side of the door. He took his time washing his hands, just in case, and joined Lotor back on his bed beneath the covers.

Lance wasn't sure at first where he should settle down in the large bed, but all Lotor needed to do was raise his arm in invitation and Lance was already there. Lotor had slipped into something during their brief interlude but Lance could still feel the heat radiating from his body as he rested his head on the Galra's chest. Lotor's arm wrapped familiarly around his shoulder to hold him close. Lance closed his eyes.

This was…nice.

"You know…" Lotor said quietly, breaking the comfortable silence. "No one has ever found me attractive."

Lance opened his eyes and sat up, twisting around to look at Lotor with obvious disbelief. "I don't believe you. You're telling me that this was the first time—"

"I'm no virgin," Lotor quickly supplemented. He looked slightly uncomfortable. "But my partners were attracted to my status. It isn't easy to explain, but to my people I'm an unfortunate hybrid. A blemish to my father's name. I had to prove myself in order to have them accept me as their ruler."

Lance shook his head. "But that doesn't make sense. You…you're beautiful!"

Lotor was silent for a few moments before running his fingers through Lance's hair.

"The children I grew up with used to call me a monster. I looked nothing like them, as you can imagine, and most children are rather unkind to those who differ from them."

"…"

"I spent my childhood training and studying instead of playing with friends because I knew that I would have to prove myself one day. Over the years I gathered other talented outcasts like me- mixed race, like me- and formed my team. I thought that I'd show them that I wasn't the monster they'd called me, that I'd earn their respect. However…"

Lotor's hand paused and Lance looked up. Lotor was looking at him intently, as if trying to figure something out.

"I realized that what I did didn't matter. There were always those who ridiculed me or considered me a curse. A failure. Evil incarnate."

Lance looked away. But much to his surprise, Lotor grabbed his chin and forced him to meet his gaze.

"But you're different, Lance. You're the first one to look me in the eye and see me for who I am- Lotor. Not an evil dictator. Not a member of the royal family. Not an inspiring leader. Not an ugly hybrid. Just…Lotor. The good and the bad."

Lotor took a deep breath.

"You see all of me and despite it all, have found me attractive. I cannot begin to describe how that makes me feel."

Lance leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Lotor's neck as he pressed their lips together. He wasn't sure what to say. But maybe the kiss was enough- Lotor didn't seem to mind it as he ran his fingers over the ridges of Lance's back. They pulled away with a smile on their faces.

By the time Lance closed his eyes and drifted to sleep, he wondered if staying on Lotor's ship would be so bad after all.

He never got the chance to find out.

* * *

 _This was by far my favorite scene to write ;) Can't wait to share next week's chapter with you! Until then, I hope to hear your thoughts and theories :D_


	8. Chapter 8

"Lance!"

Lance groaned and blindly groped for his blanket, pulling it over his head in an automatic response to the familiar voice. There was a dip in the mattress and Lance yanked his arm out of reach when he felt someone shake his shoulder.

"Lance! Wake up!"

"'m sleepin'. Go away, Keith," Lance mumbled, scrunching his eyes as he tried to go back to sleep.

Wait.

Keith?!

Lance opened his eyes and sat up quickly, eyes widening as he saw none other than Keith kneeling next to him on the bed. Something flashed in Keith's face and before Lance could cry out in surprise, his mouth was covered by Keith's hand.

"Shh," Keith whispered, drawing close. "He'll hear you."

Lance's eyes followed the direction of Keith's finger as he pointed at the bathroom door.

"There isn't enough time for questions, so you're just going to have to believe me. Just keep quiet and listen carefully, okay?"

Lance nodded dumbly, still not quite believing what he was seeing. That seemed to be enough for Keith as he lowered his hand and gave him a stern look.

"Lance, I need you to focus. Hunk said that you might go into shock if I just blurt it out 'like I always do' but I need to debrief you before Lotor comes out. You can take it, right?"

"You're scaring me," Lance's voice trembled. "What's the deal, Keith? How did you find me?"

He jumped as Keith grabbed both of his shoulders and met his gaze. _Damn_ , Keith had never looked so serious.

"This isn't real, Lance." Keith said firmly. "This is all going on in your head."

Lance's mouth split in a grin. "At least your awful sense of humor hasn't changed."

Keith's grip tightened. "This isn't a joke! He's gonna be out any minute now. I need you to believe me! Pidge thinks that they had to inject you with some sort of drug before connecting you to that machine. Do you remember something like that?"

"I…" Lance bit his lip. "They did inject me with something, but it just knocked me out, y'know? And what machine? What are you talking about?"

"Most consider it rude to enter someone's personal chambers uninvited, paladin."

"Shit," Keith pulled Lance off the bed and stood in front of him, his bayard materializing out of thin air. Lance nervously peered over Keith's shoulder at Lotor, who was standing unarmed in the middle of the room.

His expression was blank, but Lance could tell that he hadn't expected something like this to happen.

"You're a twisted maniac," Keith hissed. "Playing around with people's minds like that!"

Lotor blinked. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

Lance sidestepped Keith and stood between them.

"Keith. Explain."

Keith's eyes narrowed and for a moment Lance thought that he'd push him away, but much to his relief Keith lowered his bayard with a sigh.

"I don't know the technicalities, but we're all currently in a virtual reality that Lotor designed."

Lotor snorted. "That's ridiculous! I've never created something like that!"

Keith shook his head. "Not you. The real Lotor. You're just a digital copy, like everyone on this ship. The only real people here are me and Lance."

"Woah there, back up. Did you come here just to share one of your conspiracy theories? Because I already told you, Keith, I—"

"This isn't a conspiracy theory!" Keith snapped. "I'm telling the truth! Ugh, I _knew_ you wouldn't get it, I shouldn't even bother—"

"What do you mean, I 'wouldn't get it'?" Lance's pitch went a bit higher than he'd intended. "I totally 'get it!' I get that you popped out of nowhere, rudely woke me up and won't even explain what's going on. Some rescue mission this is!"

"I already told you what's going on! If you just listened to me—"

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Lotor cut Keith off as he approached them and draped an arm over Lance's shoulder, "but if you're here to tell stories, I suggest we order some breakfast to go with it. Otherwise, I'm willing to give you one chance to leave without being pursued."

Lance's face grew warm as he saw Keith stiffen at Lotor's casual familiarity. He wasn't sure what to do. He didn't want Keith to think that he was on the enemy's side, but Lance didn't want to hurt Lotor's feelings by shaking him off, either.

"I'm not lying," Keith grit his teeth. "And I'm not leaving without Lance. So either you get your arm off of him or I'll do it for you."

Lotor's grip tightened on Lance's shoulder.

"By all means, I would like to see you try."

Keith raised his bayard and Lance just about had enough.

"Stop it!" He yelled, stepping away from Lotor and narrowing his eyes at Keith. "Both of you."

"Lance," Lotor tilted his head and gestured at Keith, "you cannot possibly believe what he's saying, do you?"

"Of course he does! We're a team. We have each other's back. Tell him, Lance."

Lance hesitated and for the first time since Keith appeared, the other paladin looked unsure.

"Lance? Don't tell me…?"

"This is a lot to take in!" Lance said quickly, digging his nails into his palms. "You'd also find it hard to believe me if I suddenly materialized and told you that—"

"Okay. I get it," Keith cut him off. He looked resigned. "You want proof? Fine. I'll give you proof."

Keith raised his bayard again and before Lance could protest, he pointed it at himself. Lance's eyes grew wide and he cried out in horror as Keith pressed the blade to his own throat and slit it with one, quick move.

"KEITH!"

Lance ran over to Keith's body as it fell to the ground, grabbing it before it hit the floor. There was blood, so much blood and his eyes filled with tears.

"No…this can't be happening…"

"…Lance…"

"Get off of me!"

He shook off Lotor's hands as they tried to comfort him and he focused on covering the wound with his hands as he tried in vain to stop the flow of blood. Keith offered Lance a weak smile before his eyes rolled back and he grew limp in Lance's arms.

Lance didn't have the chance to process the dramatic turn of events. One moment he was holding the bloody, lifeless body of his friend. The next he was kneeling on the floor, arms empty and clean.

"…"

"Missed me?"

Lance gaped and Lotor took a step back as Keith, very much alive, materialized out of thin air.

"What…?"

"I told you," Keith said with a triumphant smile. "This isn't real. I can die as many times as I want and come back because this is all happening in our minds."

Lance's mind was reeling. He knew better than to try to stand up. He looked between Keith and Lotor, desperately hoping for a better explanation, but none came. Lotor looked just as shocked as Lance felt.

"Don't ever do that again," Lance finally said, looking up and meeting Keith's gaze with narrowed eyes. "I'm not kidding, Keith. Don't you dare kill yourself in front of me…again."

Keith looked a little chastised and lowered his gaze.

"I'm sorry. But it was the only way I could prove to you that I was right."

Lotor shook his head he sat down on the edge of the bed.

"So you are saying," his voice was a little shaky, "that I'm just…how did you phrase it? A 'digital copy' of myself?"

Keith nodded curtly. "You're just part of this scenario Lotor designed. He hitched Lance to this machine that's connected to his brain. Pidge was able to connect me to it as well."

His voice softened as he turned to Lance.

"We don't have much time. The rest of the team is guarding us and Pidge is monitoring the machine. They're all waiting for us to regain consciousness."

Lance swallowed thickly. "Why did they connect you to it? Isn't that dangerous?"

Keith shrugged. "We tried waking you up, but Pidge figured that the only way to disconnect from the algorithm is from 'the inside', so to speak. Someone needed to talk to you and…I volunteered."

Lotor cleared his throat.

"And how does one 'disconnect'?"

Keith looked at him for a long moment before turning to Lance.

"You destroy the focal point of the algorithm," he said quietly. "The main object around it revolves."

None of them spoke for a few moments before Lotor sighed.

"That would be me, is it not?"

Keith's silence was confirmation enough.

"No!" Lance jumped up. He walked over to Lotor and stood in front of him, blocking the Galra from Keith's view. "You can't!"

"Lance, he isn't real. He's just a computer code. You wouldn't really be killing Lotor…unfortunately."

Lance shook his head fiercely. "I don't care! Just because—"

Keith raised his voice. "It's our only way out of here! Don't you want to wake up and go back to the castle?"

Lance's eyes watered. "O-of course I do, but—"

"Lance."

Lance turned around. His heart sunk as he saw the sad smile on Lotor's face.

He knew that self-sacrificing look too well.

"No," he said firmly, folding his arms. "Don't even say it."

"It's okay," Lotor said quietly.

"It's not okay!" Lance snapped. "How can you give up, just like that?!"

Lotor looked far too calm. It made Lance furious.

"Keith just proved that none of this is real, Lance," he said slowly, meeting Lance's eyes. "That I'm not real. How am I supposed to carry on knowing that I'm a digital copy of myself? How can I expect you to stay here, knowing that your friends are waiting for you in the real world?"

"…No. There has to be a different way!"

"There isn't," Keith unhelpfully supplemented from behind him. When Lance turned around to glare at him, Keith stepped forward and shoved his bayard into Lance's hand.

"Just do it."

Lance turned back to Lotor and held the blade between them. It felt heavier than anything Lance ever held before.

"…I can't."

Lotor leaned forward and wrapped his fingers around the back of Lance's head, pulling him close. The other hand grasped the handle of the blade and yanked it out of Lance's hand.

"Don't forget me, Lance…"

The next few seconds were a blur. Lance felt something warm and wet between them for the second time that day. There was blood. Too much blood.

Not his blood.

He tried to cry out but his lips were sealed by Lotor's mouth. There was a lurching sensation in his gut and Lance closed his eyes that stung with unshed tears. When he opened them, he saw Hunk's face hovering above him.

"He's awake!" Hunk exclaimed. He turned his head and nodded to his left. "Keith, too!" He looked back down at Lance with a warm smile. "It's good to see you back, buddy."

Lance opened his mouth to say something but choked. His eyes widened in alarm as he tried to move his limbs and none of them budged. Hunk held him down and rubbed his arms soothingly.

"Hey, shh, you're safe. Try not to move until Pidge says it's okay to take off all the Galra tech they put on you, 'kay?"

"You can unplug them!" Lance heard Pidge's voice not too far away. "I shut off the system!"

Hunk was quick to comply. The process didn't hurt as much as Lance thought it would, but he winced when Hunk pulled out the tube that was stuck in his throat. He sat up and stretched, wetting his lips as he rubbed his neck. His throat had never been so sore.

"Welcome back," Pidge grinned as she approached him, setting down an unfamiliar device and looking him over. "You'll have to tell me all about what you saw when we get back to the ship!"

"But first we gotta get outta here," Hunk pointed out. Lance turned to watch him help Keith onto his feet. Their eyes met but Lance looked away.

He felt numb.

The doors to the room suddenly opened and a few sentries rushed in, followed by Allura, who was quick to cut them down.

"Lance! I'm so glad to see you!" Allura rushed over and grasped his shoulder. "We were worried sick about you! Don't worry, we'll get you out of here and straight into a cyro-pod."

"I wouldn't count on it."

Lance bit his lip as he watched Lotor ( _Lotor_ ) enter the room, followed by his generals. His friends stiffened next to him and had their bayards pointed at Lotor, but he didn't seem phased by their hostility.

"How did you sleep, Lance? Did you enjoy the little setup I prepared for you?"

"Don't you dare talk to him, you manipulative bastard," Keith barked. Lance looked at him in surprise and noticed the way his right hand quivered, as if he was trying to hold himself back.

"I suppose it wasn't as good as I'd thought if your friends were able to hack it, though," Lotor sighed. "I'll have my scientists perfect it for the next time."

Allura stepped forward. "There won't be a next time," she said tightly. "This mind game of yours is low, Lotor. Even for you."

Acxa stepped forward but Lotor held out his hand, holding her back. He offered Allura a condescending smirk.

"I'm flattered by your high opinion of me, princess," he said dryly before turning his head to meet Lance's gaze.

Lance froze.

"Your opinion is what I'm most curious about. How did you find my digital counterpart?"

Lance couldn't help it. The tears he'd been holding back since waking up now rolled freely down his cheeks.

Lotor's eyes widened for a split second before his face brightened with a delighted smile.

"I can't believe it! Don't tell me that you came to _care_ for me?"

Lance could feel his friends' gazes on him and hung his head. It hurt too much to speak.

"Watch it, Lotor."

Lance raised his head in surprise and looked at Keith. After everything that happened, he hadn't expected Keith out of everyone to come to his defense. Especially about this.

"Did I strike a nerve? Oh, this is absolutely charming," Lotor smirked. "Do tell, Lance. Was I kind to you? Were we friends? Or…"

He stepped forward and the paladins were spurred into action. They ran forward and were met with Lotor's generals, protecting their leader and holding Lance's friends back as Lotor approached him.

Lance knew that he was supposed to run away while unarmed, but he couldn't bring himself to move as Lotor stood in front of him and reached out to grasp his chin in his palm.

"Did you fall for me, paladin?"

Lance met his eyes briefly before looking away. Lotor released his chin with a chuckle.

"Amazing. You must have been starved for attention in there. It's rather pathetic, really, but I suppose you aren't to blame. I am an excellent actor."

"What…do you mean?"

His voice was raspy and his throat killed him, but Lance needed to understand…whatever it was that happened.

Lotor raised his brows. "You don't actually believe that my digital copy loved you?"

Lance frowned.

"He did. I'm sure of it."

Lotor's laugh was mocking. "Not possible. My copy had exactly the same memories and behavior patterns as I do. Why would I ever care for someone like you? Believe me, I am not attracted to silly, expendable humans."

Lance's throat burned. He looked around to see his friends trying to hold their own but it was clear that they were outmatched. Even Keith was having difficulties keeping Acxa at bay.

"It was stupidly easy to keep you here and make it impossible for the paladins to form Voltron," Lotor mused, watching the fighting around him as well. "And you were the perfect bait. How does it feel to be your friends' downfall?"

Gritting his teeth, Lance reached out and grabbed Lotor by the collar. He didn't meet any resistance, and if anything, Lotor's patronizing smirk incensed him like nothing else.

But something held him back from punching Lotor in the face.

"What's wrong? Did you fall for me so hard that you're unable to hurt me?"

Lance narrowed his eyes and released his hold. Lotor sneered, but he yelped as Lance leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his neck. He looked startled and severely uncomfortable.

Lance used those moments of uncertainty to pull Lotor down so that he could whisper in his ear.

"You aren't a monster, Lotor, despite what they said. _I_ know you aren't. So stop acting like one."

He lingered for a second before pulling back and unwinding his arms. Lotor's eyes were wide as he looked down at Lance, as if seeing him for the first time.

Lance met his gaze unwaveringly and waited.

Lotor turned around abruptly and turned towards the dueling pairs.

"Stop!" He ordered. His generals immediately obeyed, pulling back and returning to his side, though they looked at him questioningly. The paladins looked after them in confusion, their bayards still raised in midair.

"Leave my ship at once," Lotor snapped, addressing them all. "Go. Before I change my mind."

Lance silently sidestepped him and joined his friends. They looked at him uncertainly.

"Let's get out of here."

"But we've got them!" Keith protested, pointing his bayard at Lotor. "We can finish it right here, right now!"

"Keith," Lance said sharply. "We're going."

Allura and Hunk exchanged a look before nodding and turning to go. Pidge pursed her lips and followed, dragging a disgruntled Keith along with her. Lance brought up the rear, making sure that everyone left the room before looking back over his shoulder.

Lotor was starting at him, his expression blank and unreadable. Their eyes met for a long moment before Lance turned back and walked away. Maybe one day he'd learn to read this Lotor's expressions, too.

But for now…

He was going home.

* * *

 _Hello everyone :) Thank you to all those who've kept up with this story! I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it._

 _I've been wanting to write this story for a very long time. As you can tell, it has Matrix elements, but I mainly based the idea of a digital copy on Black Mirror's Christmas special, 'White Christmas'. The virtual reality in which Lance finds himself is a mix of the two._

 _It would mean the world to me if you shared your thoughts!_


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